


The light I see in you

by Smauglicious



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-10-02 17:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10223771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smauglicious/pseuds/Smauglicious
Summary: An overdose from his brother brought them closer together. This is a slow burn fic of Mycroft and Greg before Sherlock met John.As he followed the stretcher out the door, he took out his mobile and dialed the one man he hated having to relay this update to.Hello, Mr Holmes.I'm sorry to inform you that your brother is en-route to Bart's after a near overdose. I'll stay with him until I know he's stabilized and settled. Please text or call me. – GL





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything.
> 
> Great thanks to my cute and fabulous beta, Fran!  
> This is a co-written work where  
> Mycroft is as written by me [Smauglicious]  
> Greg is as written by GLFish 
> 
> Enjoy!

The phone beeped as Mycroft swiftly picked up the phone, reading the contents of the message. His eyebrows formed a crease as he frowned, pinching his nose. He sighed under his breath, of course his baby brother would cause trouble. Yet again.

He had hoped that he wouldn't bother the detective that helped him much. Mycroft swiftly typed back.

 

**Will arrive in 15 minutes. -MH**

He stood up, smoothing the creases of his suit as he walked out of his office, dignified and quiet. He hoped his brother wasn't in too much trouble.

 --

Greg picked up his mobile at the first alert he had a text. He sighed in relief at the quick reply but then grew nervous. He'd only had a few interactions with Mycroft so far via text, and a rare few actual meetings with the man himself. The first meeting was certainly memorable, not realizing until then that the intimidating Mycroft Holmes came as a package deal with the new 'Consulting Detective' Greg seemed to have acquired.

 

**Appreciate your making the time. Will await you at my office. – GL**

 

\--

Mycroft sat in the car with Anthea by his side. He bit his lower lip worriedly as he stared out the window, he really hoped Sherlock wouldn't be high again. It had taken him a long time to get Sherlock to stop.

As the car stopped, Mycroft stepped out with an umbrella in hand. He walked swiftly to Lestrade's office, opening the door with confidence. Clearing his throat and smiling gentlemanly, he knocked the door with a few raps as he leaned against the wall, legs crossed over one another.

"What did my brother do again? " He sighed.

Greg looked up from the report he was writing at the sound of Mycroft trying to gain his attention. He tried to smile through his worried appearance at what he felt would be a difficult subject. Waving to a seat at his desk, he welcomed his guest.

"Thank you for taking time to meet. I've recently came back from a crime scene this morning at which your brother was present. His behaviour was abominable to my team and he appeared to be high, I dismissed him from the scene immediately. I won't compromise an investigation with this behaviour."

Mycroft stilled for a while, fingers interlocking with each other as he rested it on his lap. He sighed softly, and looked back up at Lestrade, smiling strained and silently giving an apology of his brother's behaviour.

"Very well, detective inspector. My apologies for this behaviour, I will be sure to check on it. " Mycroft was tired, tired of this situation repeating over and over and over. He stood up to shook the detective's hand, nodding politely as he did so.

Greg shook Mycroft's hand and felt badly for the situation the brothers were in. He wanted to do more to help. Sherlock was extraordinarily gifted and he wished nothing more than to see him overcome his addiction and become the man he saw so much potential in.

Greg offered up, "I was planning to visit him at Montague street this evening. No time like the present, for a drugs check and make sure the lad's alright."

Mycroft offered a small genuine smile, nodding his head minutely. "Thank you Lestrade. I appreciate it, no one really cared to this extent. " He straightened his exterior, planting a calm face yet again.

"Please do update me on him once you find out. " He had to remind himself that he wouldn't always be with his brother forever, someone could be the second fall back and he would see how it goes.

Greg gave a smile of reassurance back. "I know you worry about him and rightfully so, but I'll do what I can to encourage and entice him with cases if he stays clean. That boy needs someone he trusts to give him a swift kick in the arse when he goes astray. I hope to build up that trust with him."

"Yes, I'm sure he'll warm up to you. You hold the rights to his going to the scenes after all. " Mycroft smiled fondly, relaxing now that he was affirmed of at least one being whom did not despise Sherlock. "I worry for him endlessly." Mycroft sighed under his breath.

Greg was glad for this opportunity to speak in person with Mycroft. They primarily had only exchanged texts and there had only been a couple times he'd interacted with the man in person like this. Each successive interaction appeared to gradually reveal a protective brother who would do anything for his little brother.

Greg offered, "I'll be sure to contact you tonight after I visit with him. We both want what's best for Sherlock after all, but he needs to help us help him."

Mycroft nodded in agreement. "Yes, please do. I will be awaiting your call. " Mycroft smiled before swiftly closing the door behind him.

He would remember this detective; he was someone worth trusting. Lestrade seemed to harbour no manipulative thoughts towards both Holmes brothers and that was what Mycroft looked in.

 --

Later that night from Sherlock's Montague Street apartment, Greg was surrounded by medics loading a barely conscious Sherlock on to a stretcher. Greg was thankful he arrived when he did to recognize the signs of an overdosing Sherlock unconscious on the couch. He'd put him in the recovery position and immediately called for medical assistance. Those were long minutes he spent waiting for help, trying to revive him, getting him to throw up and all along praying the young man would make it.

As the stretcher went by, Sherlock weakly handed Greg a wrinkled piece of paper with a handwritten list of what appeared to be drugs. 

He whispered out, "For Mycroft."

Greg was surprised and looked at it with astonished eyes. "Is this what you took?" He eyed Sherlock warily before he passed it to one of the medics, explaining. "I think this may be what he took."

As he followed the stretcher out the door, he took out his mobile and dialled the one man he hated having to relay this update to.

 

**Hello, Mr Holmes.**

**I'm sorry to inform you that your brother is en-route to Bart's after a near overdose. I'll stay with him until I know he's stabilized and settled. Please text or call me. – GL**


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft’s heart lurched in the most painful way as his throat constricted. He exhaled a shaky breath as he read the contents of the message. Overdose, again. What would Mummy say? Mycroft felt incredibly useless. What did he do wrong?

He had tried everything in his power to stop his baby brother but he failed again and again. He needed to be the strong one, the rational one, Mycroft reminded himself. He sighed, defeated.

He was already on the way when he received the message.

Greg was in the hospital waiting room looking out the window on a rainy London night.  He shivered, feeling cold. Realizing for the first time he left his mack at Sherlock's apartment. He left another text for Mycroft.

 

**Hi, no further news yet, but wanted you to know he's in A &E now. I provided what information I could for him to the staff.  -GL**

 

When Mycroft read the text, he had just alighted the car and arrived at Bart's. Maintaining his distant exterior, he swiftly closed the door behind him, entering the entrance of Bart's.

With a clear path in mind, he walked to the A&E in fast and big strides. He spotted Lestrade immediately and went towards him.

"How long was he in there? " Mycroft asked immediately with a slight edge to his voice. "How bad? "

Greg turned to face Mycroft, whom he could see within a flicker of those ice blue eyes, go from a distraught elder brother to coolly detached. He imagined he could even hear the sound of those walls rising up and being locked into place. 

"Hello, Mr Holmes. I wish I had gone over sooner. As it was, I arrived fortunately in time to get him treatment. I arrived at his place around 6pm. His lights were on, but there was no answer for some time. The door was not locked... Thank, Christ! So I let myself in. He was on the couch unresponsive. I was able to revive him somewhat before the medics came. According to Dr Goodson, he's a very lucky man to be with us after the drug cocktail he devised for himself."

Mycroft smiled crookedly, "Drug cocktail. " He whispered coldly under his breath, Sherlock always thought this was just a great big game.

"Thank you... Greg. I am immensely in your debt. Did my brother give you a list? " Mycroft enquired, making sure there was no space for humour in his tone. He was tired of not being in control.

Greg raised his eyebrows in surprise and reached into his coat pocket pulling out the wrinkled small bit of scrawled upon papers. "Sorry, yeah. Got it here. He wanted you to get it." Handing it over to Mycroft, "How'd you know about it?"

"He always has a list. " Mycroft said, eyes turning into slits as he continued reading the contents of the list.

"Oh brother dear. " He sighed, his eyebrows creasing. What warranted this behaviour? Why overdose? He was getting better... Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "We shall wait then. "

Greg was fidgeting with his hands, twirling a pen like he would an unlit cigarette. He really felt the need to smoke, his pent up nervous energy and the waiting was not a good combination.

He wished Dr Goodson would show up with what he prayed was good news soon.

He also felt guilty about not getting to Sherlock soon enough. He'd seen the evidence at the crime scene earlier that Sherlock was already high then and not doing well. He couldn't fully look at Mycroft as he tried to stutter out an apology. He felt he owed the man for not doing a better job of looking out for Sherlock. 

"I'm sorry, Mr Holmes. I urm should have driven him home from the scene when I first realized he was high. I... Or I, well, could have gone over sooner. Who knows?"

Mycroft replied, eyebrows furrowing. "It wasn't in your power or duty to check on Sherlock. The fact that you had indeed tried to help him is already enough. " Mycroft observed his hands a while before looking back up. "Besides, it was my duty and no one could have known what would happen. " He smiled bitterly, "It is my brother after all, naive, childish, he would find a way, one way or another to get himself overdosed. "

 ---

It was silent for a while as the uncomfortable and tense atmosphere dragged on. Dr Goodson stepped out of the A&E, board in hand. "The family of Sherlock Holmes? " He read out, clearing his throat.

Mycroft nodded, standing up to his full height, walking towards the doctor dignified. "Yes. "

Greg looked up hopefully at Dr Goodson conversing with Mycroft, trying to gauge facial expressions and body language. He was a copper, it was what he was ingrained to do and working with Sherlock throughout this past year was teaching him how to deduct differently as well. He wasn't anywhere near the skill set of Sherlock, but he did notice an improvement however slight. 

He was always good at reading people emotionally though. And had a knack for understanding them and judging them fairly. From his meeting with Mycroft earlier, their interaction in the waiting room coupled with watching him with the doctor now, he viewed Mycroft Holmes as a secretive man, who let very few people inside his walls of proper professionalism and controlled manner that he showed outwardly.

His weakness in those walls was caring about his younger brother Sherlock. For some reason, Greg wanted to ease that overt sense of duty as big brother protector for Mycroft. Greg had siblings and was the eldest of them, so he could empathize with that need to look out for the other siblings. 

He saw the two men were finished talking and as Dr Goodson strode away, Greg stepped up to the side of Mycroft, who seemed to be in deep thought and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "So, um, is he going to be alright? Is he able to have visitors?"

Mycroft tapped his fingers on the umbrella as he frowned, the corners of his lips curving downwards. He spoke, "He just had his stomach pumped, condition is rather stabilized for the time being. His heart stopped once, but they managed to revive it without further difficulties. He'll be in the ICU for a few days to see how it goes. "

Mycroft turned over, looking at Greg. "They do allow visiting for the time being. Would you like to come? You did save his life. " Mycroft replied.

Greg's face paled at hearing about Sherlock's heart stopping. Damn, that brilliant idiot! He thought to himself. He could feel the beginning of an anger towards Sherlock for what he did to himself as well as the pain he had to put his brother through.

Greg smiled back, thankful for the invitation to see for himself that Sherlock had pulled through. "Thank you, Mr Holmes. I'd like that.  However, you're family, I don't want to intrude. I'll grab a smoke while you go first. I'll be 'round after that."

Mycroft nodded before pulling on his scrubs to enter the ICU. He entered as he stood still, taking in the prone form of Sherlock. Making sure that there was no one around him and that he was alone, he released a shaky breath as his face crumpled, grimacing.

"Brother mine... " He whispered, walking towards Sherlock before collapsing into the chair beside him.

Sherlock was in a bad way. Machines were hooked up and the mechanical whirring stood out loudly against the silence of the surroundings. Sherlock was pale and frail, breathing softly using the ventilator. IV drips hung round his body, one for antibiotics and the other for hydration. Sherlock would be asleep for a while.

 ---

After his smoke, Greg walked through the hospital, on his way towards the ICU. Outside, the sun was starting to rise and there had been a slight misting of rain.  He felt slightly cold, not only because of the rain having caught a bit in his hair. He approached the curtained area where Sherlock was lying still and pale on the hospital bed.

Sherlock’s lanky frame seemed to be crammed into that small space. He saw to the right of him, Mycroft seated with his hand resting on top of his brother's. Greg cleared his throat softly to catch the man's attention as he stood next to him. He laid his hand on Mycroft's shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze. "He's gonna pull through and be a pain in our arses. I just know it. And I brought you something.” He handed over a cup of tea and a wrapped in plastic biscuit.

 --- 

"Thank you. " Mycroft accepted it though he was not at all hungry. He sighed, rubbing his temple in a circular motion. "Yes, I'm sure he'll be fine. " Mycroft whispered under his breath, "It's the withdrawals that's the worst. "

He looked up to Greg once again, replying politely. "I do hope you'll help him on his way too, I can see, he might need you more than me. "

Greg sipped at his hot beverage, with a concerned look. "Poor blighters gonna need people on his side for what's coming. Even if it’s needed to give him some tough love through it. Between you and me, we'll get him squared up, whether he likes it or not."

He looked over at Mycroft reassuringly, to let him know that he and his brother weren't being abandoned to their fate, if Lestrade had anything to do with it. He was growing to really like the brothers Holmes. He shook his head, bewildered as he thought about the things that he had seemingly got himself into, yawning.

"Best be getting home. Kip a couple of hours of sleep before my shift starts. Call if you need anything. I'll most likely stop by here again after my shift if I can. "

Mycroft sipped on the tea, the corners of his lips quirked. "Yes. Though he denies it, my brother is incredibly deceptive to the feelings of love. "

Mycroft had always thought to himself that caring was not an advantage. When it came to his brother though, there was no restraint. He looked to Greg, standing up to see him off, "I shall not burden you further. Please, do go home and rest. " Mycroft extended out a hand to shake.

Greg shook the proffered hand lingering a bit, he looked Mycroft in the eyes to make sure he felt the sincerity of his next words. "Be sure you get some rest too. You're going to need it. Is there anything I can do for you on my way?  Call someone? Like parents, or you got that covered?"

"No, it's fine. Parents would fuss too much, cause too much trouble and unnecessary mothering. I don't want to worry them. " Mycroft immediately declined, smiling to cover his softened facade before. "I've got it covered. Please, don't worry. "

Greg barely had any time at all for sleep, but he managed a couple of hours and was back in the office once again with a large cup of coffee and pastry he'd bought at a food truck nearby. He headed towards his office and was intercepted at the door by Sergeant Donovan. She gave him a once over and tucked her arms in front of her as she nodded at him. "Morning, boss. You look like shite. Rough night?"

He rubbed at his grizzled chin, knowing in his haste to get to work that he didn't shave. "Yeah, somewhat like that. Was at A&E. Had to bring Sherlock there. Overdose."

Sally squinted her eyes, "Freak's a lucky bastard you look out for him. He doesn’t deserve it. He's only going to take you down with him some day." 

Greg eyed her angrily. "Shut it, Donovan. Let's just get through the day, yeah?" 

Sally shrugged her shoulders, "Sure, whatever you say. Put Hooper's report on the Lawson homicide on your desk. That'll brighten your morning."


	3. Chapter 3

Mycroft on the other hand, had proceeded to finish standard protocols here and there after Lestrade left. He transferred Sherlock into a safer ward, and had changed the doctors for better ones. He overwrote Sherlock’s visiting hours before setting off to banish the drug dealers that had provided Sherlock with the drugs.

It was dawn before Mycroft finished dealing with and covering up the things done. He sighed once more as he walked back to the ward, a little surprised to see Sherlock awake. His eyes were glazed and half lidded, staring blankly at the wall. As if he was high.

High.

Unfeeling.

Mycroft sighed, shoulders slumping a little in defeat. "Brother dearest. " Mycroft walked towards the bed, sitting onto the seat next to Sherlock. "Feeling alive, baby brother? Please. You need to stop. Mummy would mourn if you did die. " Mycroft's eyebrows creased in worry, squeezing Sherlock's hand in an attempt to comfort, gently tugging his curls behind his ears.

Sherlock opened his eyes, feeling terrible. His mouth felt dry, head pounding and chest constricted. He sighed internally, cursing himself for still being alive. He had just wanted to feel it again and the more he had, the more it felt like he was invincible. The feeling was great, brilliant, like he was the king of the world. But then it crashed and burned and one minute, he couldn't see nor feel.

And now. Now he was stuck in the place that he hated most. His defences were down, he felt so tired of it all. Sherlock was in his head, cursing when a gentle and warm voice that reminded him of home drifted through his ears. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut in frustration.

"Myc. " Sherlock croaked hoarsely as a single tear slid uncontrollably down his cheek.

"It's okay, Lock.” Mycroft couldn’t help but use the childhood name that he so dearly treasured. “You'll be fine. You're always fine, you have me. "

Mycroft was a little worried at the extreme change of behaviour, it was like when they were kids again. He let his guard down for just a moment, indulging in the time when Sherlock was just a small boy that would only trust him.

 ---

In his office, Greg gave the Lawson autopsy report another once over. However, his thoughts kept returning to the Holmes' brothers. Had Sherlock not been high, he would have gladly had him help with the grizzly Lawson family murder. Right now they weren't finding many leads and usually during the first 48 hours after a scene such as this, it was critical to follow up on any suspects or leads. He decided to take a few minutes to text Mycroft.

 

**Hello, checking in. Hope you're getting some rest and that Sherlock is doing better. Let me know if you need anything.  -GL**

**\---**

Mycroft had been by Sherlock's side for several hours, coaxing him to sleep once again and comforting him. He hoped Sherlock would be himself soon again, it was both fond and worrying to see Sherlock with his defences down.

He was doing paperwork when a message from the DI chimed. Mycroft read it soon after, amused at the thought that Lestrade had put in. He updated Lestrade with what was happening.

 

**Yes, Sherlock woke up once while you were gone but he's fine now, not in immediate emergency. -MH**

 

He was about to send it before he thought a little while, might as well help the DI on the case that he must have been stuck on without Sherlock. Maybe he could help, to cover up Sherlock's tracks. He proceeded to add before sending.

 

**DI Lestrade, I would not mind covering my brother for this case. I am as well, good in the science of deductions.**

 

Greg received the text response from Mycroft, relieved to hear Sherlock was doing better.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise at the offer of assistance with his case from Mycroft in place of his brother. He pondered his thoughts on this, wondering if Mycroft was indeed as brilliant at deductions as Sherlock. He wouldn't be surprised to find that he was.

He just must have had a different approach compared to his brother who blurted out whatever deductions he could about people without consequences of how he affected those he deduced and the audience hearing them. He replied to the offer.

 

**Hello, Mr Holmes. Thank you for your generous and thoughtful offer to assist with this case in your brother's place. I do not wish to burden you with this and risk our professional relationship towards Sherlock. However, we currently have no leads and the trail grows colder as we speak.  If you would be available to meet-**

Greg considered the next line carefully, wondering what compelled him to want to offer this.

**-say at a coffee shop or some such at your convenience, I would be obliged. – GL**

Mycroft quirked his eyebrows as amusement danced in his eyes at Lestrade's message. A coffee shop? Not that Mycroft really minded. He sent back.

 

**Noted. Lunch, 1pm. I do not mind much of the place, I will leave it to you. I assure you do not have to worry. - MH**

 

Mycroft closed his phone, slipping it back into his pocket. He continued to keep watch of his brother.

Greg smiled at the text accepting his invitation to meet for lunch. He chose a cafe he liked that was in walking distance from Bart's in consideration for Mycroft's current location with Sherlock. Molly was a regular there and introduced him and Sherlock to it.

 

**Hello, Mr Holmes, thank you for agreeing to meet. Please join me at 1pm at Cereal Killer Cafe. -GL**

 

 ---

It was now 11am, two hours till the designated time. Mycroft continued doing his work while keeping watch of Sherlock. When Sherlock really woke, it would be a real battle.

It was soon two hours before he looked up at the time. Eyes widening a little, he realized that he was going to be late. Mycroft adjusted his clothes before heading down, hoping he wasn’t letting Lestrade wait for too long.

Greg threw on his suit jacket and stuffed a hideous tie with a couple of small stains into its pocket. He checked the time on his mobile, making sure he'd left enough time to meet at the cafe.  He debated on putting on cologne, looking at his desk drawer a couple of times as he played with combing at his unruly hair with his fingers. He really needed a cut.

He sighed at himself, giving in and opened the drawer putting some cologne on. He grimaced at himself at what he saw on the reflected glass surface, grumbling a little at his appearance. He now had even more beard growth showing than earlier.

 ---

When he turned to grab his keys and walk through his office door, Sally was walking by before she caught side of the DI. She leaned her body against the door as she smirked at him. "You got a hot date or something, boss?"

Greg looked at her with the glare of a poked tiger. "Quit it, Donovan. I'm just meeting someone who agreed to assist with the Lawson case. See if we can get somewhere with it.  Don't you have reports to write?" 

"Touchy, touchy." She reached over to untuck the other jacket pocket and annoyingly patted down whatever hair that was still sticking up, laughing quietly at her rumpled superior trying to fix himself up.

"Now you're gorgeous, Sir. Go get that lead!"

He knew that the Politician he was meeting would be dressed to impress, fastidiously punctual and well mannered. If he knew anything about the man, those were characteristics he'd use. Why was he feeling like he needed to present his best face forward today? Show Holmes he wasn't always this aging, never fully rested workaholic copper.

He laughed at himself for the cologne as he sat alone in his car, thinking more clearly than a moment ago as he threw the tie into the passenger seat on further thought. He wasn't one to kiss arse, but instead, was one to let people take him as who he was and why should Mycroft be an exception?

He arrived five minutes early and checked in with the hostess at the cafe. Not seeing Mycroft yet, he decided to choose a placing nearer to the entrance so as to not miss the man if he appeared. He sent a text.

 

**Hello, I'm here at the cafe. See you soon. -GL**

 

Mycroft arrived 10 minutes late, adorning a mildly apologetic face.

"My apologies DI, I had some work to be done." He nodded his head before sitting into the seat opposite Greg, placing his umbrella down by the side. He was well seated before he observed his surroundings with mild amusement in his eyes as he quirked a smile, it seemed exactly the place the DI would like. "This place is indeed, cosy. "


	4. Chapter 4

Greg was surprised at the normally punctual Mycroft being ten minutes late but didn't call attention to it. He stood up to greet the politician, shaking his hand. "Hello, Mr Holmes. I'm glad you could join me. I'm sorry it isn't swankier, but it's a favourite of Molly, myself and even Sherlock, since it’s close to Bart's. How's Sherlock doing?"

"No, it's fine.” Mycroft reassured as he continued,” Ah, and yes. Sherlock. " Mycroft’s eye twitched, what could he possibly say about Sherlock? "He'll be fine. " He smiled, albeit strained.

He cleared his throat, shaking Lestrade's hand. "Yes. About the case. May I have the file then? "

"Sure, of course."  Lestrade replied immediately as he passed the folder that contained some grotesque crime scene photos over. The waiter that had just came over tried not to look at it with interest while he took their orders.

"What's unusual is that it seems to be too clean a scene. Our forensics team found it difficult so far to trace anything to tie us back to anyone or anything. There still is speculation going around as to what actually was used as the weapon to cause those markings as well as what had appeared from the autopsy to have pierced their hearts."

"No witnesses. No motive yet seen. My gut wants to say it's a government hit, perhaps related. But even with that theory, I’m not exactly sure I can tie it back to anything. You've got a minor role in the government right? Any validity you think in my instinct?"

Mycroft smiled a little, looking through the documents. He had noticed when Lestrade was speaking on the phone with one of his subordinates. He had heard about the Lawson case and had immediately thought of one of the situation back at his work that had went unsolved due to incompetency of the higher ups.

He had then, came just for that particular reason.

He knew the case was something more than to be seen. It was M16 business, spies have indeed informed him and now that he did have the evidence officially, it could be brought back to his hands. Not one of the stupid (Mycroft cursed inwardly) higher ups. He smiled politely to Lestrade.

Yes, he would take it into his own hands.

"DI, it is indeed. “ Mycroft interjected coolly as he proceeded to explain to Lestrade. ” Something to be taken off your hands. From what I have seen, you have stuttered across a murder that was meant for the M16 coordinators. "

Mycroft flashed Lestrade a professional smile, collecting the files and organizing them into a stack. "I'll inform your officer. I'll be taking this back, if that’s fine with you." Mycroft added as he nodded.

Greg frowned a bit, a little thrown off at what information Mycroft has just given him. He didn't particularly like cases being taken, but he also knew from Sherlock and his own times at dealing with Mycroft that he was not really a government official that had a minor position as he wanted people to believe.

"Well, I suppose I should've expected that. I had an instinct something was a bit off on this being a normal case for us. Thanks for letting me know." Lestrade said grudgingly. He then decided to lighten the mood with some other idle topic.

"So, on to other cheerier topics. How are enjoying your meal?" Greg smiled as he took a bite out of his meal.

"It is rather delicious. " Mycroft smiled, taking a small bite out of his food.

"You do not have to worry about the case, it'll be in good hands. " Mycroft reassured once again.

Greg smiled lightly. He was becoming more and more comfortable with Mycroft lately. The man still overly impressed and intimidated him slightly since Greg felt he didn't measure up to the posh and intellectual world of Mycroft Holmes.

However, there was something about him like his brother, that Greg saw in them that made him want to help and support them. He knew both brothers were different despite their outer appearances. The behaviours and things they might have said that sounded off putting to others, usually had some level of merit in their trying to do the right things. Greg was all for doing the right thing. 

He smirked as he thought of the times that he had visited here with Mycroft's brother and shared.

"Glad you like it. Sherlock comes here often too, usually orders the cereal despite the time of day. They have a variety named after Serial Killers.  Sherlock even suggested a few to the management of what should be added onto the menu."

"Oh?" Mycroft quirked a smile as he raised an amused eyebrow. "That's interesting. My brother has always been vastly invested in several unexpected areas." Mycroft laughed, he was rather in the mood of sharing as he gazed at the DI opposite of him.

"Did you know? He used to love pirates, wanted to be one at that. He would say anything after with 'Ay'. " Mycroft recalled fondly.

How it came a long way, the curious boy so far gone that he was now an empty shell that survived on the need to be high. Mycroft had constantly berated himself internally, if only he was with Sherlock more.

Greg chuckled at the image of a young Sherlock playing at pirates and the touch of a happy memory Mycroft shared with such fondness with him. "I bet he made people walk the plank.  And was good at finding treasure."  This lunch meeting was turning out much more pleasant than he thought it would be.

"So, were you a pirate too?  What did young Mycroft do as a child?" He decided to try his luck at getting to know the proclaimed ice man more.

"I wanted in the worst way to be a formula 1 race car driver. Drove my mum and dad crazy with cars and motorbikes.  Still have a fondness for motorbikes." Greg shared.

Mycroft laughed a little at Lestrade's story. "I had been rather quiet as a child." Mycroft recounted with an amused smile, "I wanted to be what my father was, a politician. And so, I did, become one. "

He did not know why he was rambling to this particular DI, making small talk wasn't in his list. But it had felt comfortable and natural, something Mycroft rarely experienced.

Greg lightly teased, "It's the quiet ones you've got to watch out for."

Mycroft snorted at that, a small quirk of a smile adorning his face. "Yes, I am rather cunning. You should be watching out for me. " Mycroft replied good naturedly.

Greg liked Mycroft's smile. It looked like a truly genuine one. He felt chuffed that he seemed to be coaxing out a new side of Mycroft he'd never seen before.

"Oh, don't you worry Mr Holmes. You are definitely on my watch list now."

Greg teased back, surprised at how he seemed to be flirting with this unusual man he was beginning to feel he needed to get to know more. He liked this side of the Mycroft and hadn't felt this attracted to another man since uni.

Mycroft knew, or rather could feel the static in the air, that Lestrade was flirting with him. He could see it as bright as the day. And it was pretty flattering really, how a goldfish would see any good in him. Lestrade seemed to be bringing out something he himself had unexpected.

"Oh? Maybe I should be keeping watch of you from now on then. " He replied with an eyebrow raised, a small smile tugging.

"You go ahead and look. I don't mind at all."  He jokingly replied.

 ---

Greg stopped with his eyes wide at what had just slipped out of his mouth. He couldn't believe how things had turned so suddenly. Was he getting too cocky thinking Mycroft Holmes could actually be attracted to someone on his level?  He started to slow down the flirt in him.

"All joking aside. Thank you for agreeing to meet for lunch and although I didn't expect to get this case taken away, this... This was good of you."  Greg made sure that he picked up the cheque. "Please, it's on me."

When Mycroft had the gears turning in Lestrade’s head, he hastily interjected. "No, please don't. I should be the one that's paying, you have helped me tremendously with Sherlock." Mycroft offered back.

Greg waved the offer away. “No need. But thanks for offering. It just means you can pay next time."  He certainly hoped there would be more next times if they went as well as today.

He got up from the table making his leave. "I really need to head back to the office.  I'll try to check in on Sherlock after my shift if it doesn't run over too late."

"A next time?” Mycroft asked with a tilt of his head. ”Yes, sure, please do go on. I'll be with Sherlock until you come. " The words slipped out of Mycroft as his smile faltered for a second before it returned, confident. What the hell did 'until you come' meant? He nodded his head minutely and reached out his hand to shake. "It was nice having lunch with you. "

Greg lingered in shaking Mycroft's hand. "Perhaps we can meet up regularly... For, err, reports on Sherlock at the very least for our next time. And I'll see you later at Bart's then. Good day!"  He left the cafe on a pleased note, having been given a new perspective into the formidable Mycroft Holmes.

Mycroft was left a little dazed and amused. He had prided himself in self-control and this meeting had certainly tilted in terms of his behaviour. He took a second to compose himself before picking up his umbrella, walking towards the direction of St. Bart's. It had seemed that this would not be the last meeting with the DI.


	5. Chapter 5

Sally noticed her boss coming back into the office looking very happy. "It was a hot date after all. Look at you preening about." Sally laughed as she nudged her boss’ shoulders.

Greg looked startled, snapping out of his thoughts as he looked at Sally, scandalized. "What? No. It was just a meeting with someone to help with the Lawson case."

Sally teased further as she audibly rolled her eyes. "Looks like they were 'very' helpful I guess? So, we got a lead?"

Greg frowned at that as he laughed nervously, "Err, well, it's no longer our case. It's apparently government business. It's been taken off the Met's hands.", he admitted as he ducked his head.

Greg made a beeline for his office, shutting the door and effectively ending his conversation with Sally. He still was thinking about how he and Mycroft Holmes appeared to be flirting. He didn't imagine that, did he? Later after his shift, he texted Mycroft. 

 

**Hello, Mr Holmes. Enroute to Bart's now to visit Sherlock. -GL**

Greg arrived at Sherlock's room soon after. He quietly stepped in as he looked around, expecting to find a certain auburn haired man. It had appeared however, to be just Sherlock there at the moment. Sherlock seemed to be sleeping. He quietly walked over and placed a bag of grapes on the bedside table, along with some newspapers and a cold case file. "Hey, lad. Sleep well and get better yeah?" He idly said as he looked at the still form in front of him.

 ---

Mycroft had a rather rushed meeting with the department of finance while he was keeping watch of Sherlock. He had made quick of his journey to his workplace to solve a certain problem and had not had the time to check his phone. He was on his way back to Sherlock once again after he finished the meeting, hoping that everything was fine. If something was wrong, Anthea would have told him, of course. But he had wanted to be more careful.

Mycroft entered Sherlock's ward at a quick pace, stopping to a sudden halt as he caught sight of the DI. He was thrown off guard, his face slightly red from the exertion but still dignified in its own way as he held his trusty umbrella.

An 'oh' slipped out of his mouth as his ears flushed red, behaving like he got caught as he stood in front of the DI. He had not expected Lestrade to reach so soon.

"My apologies, I had something to deal with. " Mycroft smiled, "Thank you for your presence, we, /he/ will appreciate it."

Greg startled a bit and with a friendly welcoming smile, turned to Mycroft.  He was looking put together and posh as usual.  He was glad to see the man he'd been thinking and puzzling on since their lunch.

Puzzling since he found himself being somewhat attracted to him after their initial lunch meeting, a feeling he hadn't had for anyone for a long while. The feeling however, was tinged with a bit of guilt.  

Greg had been pondering over that day, to see if he had mistaken that attraction for just him trying to fill a lonely void inside, since he knew his marriage was slowly crumbling around him. He'd learned recently that his wife was cheating on him. Of course it was Sherlock blurting it out in front of his team several weeks ago that he found out.

He didn't want to believe it at first.

But ever since then, he started to finally allow himself to see the signs for himself.  He vowed he would confront her about it soon.  However, he wanted to pretend a while longer that it wasn't true. Since if it was, he was sure he deserved it for being neglectful to her needs. 

"Hello, Mr Holmes.  Good to see you again." He said as he snapped out of his thoughts.

 ---

He searched the man's face for any tells but there usually weren't any and if there were, they disappeared as fast as his eyes could catch. It made him wonder if he saw anything at all.  What the DI did surmise however though, was exhaustion. 

"Sleeping Beauty over here should be fine for a while if you need to get some rest. Have you had any chance to do so?  You seem a bit knackered." Greg worked up the courage to voice out his opinions.

Mycroft smiled back strained, albeit tired. "No, it's fine. I don't need much sleep anyway, I'll be here to keep watch of him. " He dragged a chair across and beside the DI, bending down to sit on it. Lestrade was rather endearing or so to say, he never seemed to get on the wrong side of Mycroft.

Rather, it was better when he was by his side in the hospital, it elevated his sense of hopelessness, even if it was just a little.

"Mind if I sit with you both a bit? Not ready to go home just yet." Lestrade chimed in. He was getting increasingly worried lately that he just might walk in on his wife with a lover or even if she was out, it would eat him alive thinking she might be out with another lover. Home had not felt like home for a while now.

"Oh no, it's fine. " He had observed of course, the way Lestrade behaved. It had seemed that he had been seriously heartbroken over the fact about his wife.

"Your wife has been cheating since the start, it's not that you were insufficient. " Mycroft unconsciously let the words slip out.

 ---

Lestrade was startled as his jaw dropped, his mouth opening a little in shock. He was taken aback, slightly embarrassed by the sudden deduction. "What? Christ, I forget sometimes how similar you and Sherlock are like that. Although you have the sense not to blurt it out at a crime scene like he did. "

"Of course I do not. " Mycroft quirked a smile, "I'm nothing like my brother. I was just trying to reassure you that your needs to her, both physically and mentally, were absolutely fine. " He tapped his fingers, "You do not need to be upset, you're a good man."

Lestrade gives a melancholy smile at that. His basic instincts of trying to defend his wife, or who he thought he knew in the beginning, bubbled up to the surface. But he was gradually learning a whole other side to her.

"Good of you to say, but being a copper's wife isn't easy. The hours, the risk to my person, bringing my baggage on cases that haunt me when I’m home isn't pleasant to deal with. I just... Well, I guess I didn't realize what I was getting her into and she didn't either when I had proposed to her all those years ago.  If I could do it over again, I'd warn her more or set her free earlier on without the proposal you know? But I committed to her as her husband when I took those vows and..."

He rubbed his face, taking a breath "I've never gone against my word before. If I give up policing, it wouldn't feel right. But if it means that I've kept my vow as her husband, I sure am considering it.  Sorry.”

Lestrade paused as he took a breath at all the information that he had unknowingly poured out to Mycroft. “Sorry, shouldn't burden you with this." Lestrade managed.

Mycroft was a little taken aback that Lestrade would confide in someone like him, the personal matters of his life and the added confession of how much he cared for his wife even after she had abandoned him. It was perplexing really, how much a goldfish cared. He had always told himself as well as Sherlock that caring was not an advantage.

He sighed a little under his breath, looking closely at the DI.

"Your wife should have known what was coming, it was her responsibility too to have considered these facts. And she had indeed accepted your proposal. Whatever that happened to the marriage, both were at fault. It was incredulous of her to have put the blame on you, she did not even try. "

He was a little glad that Greg had confided in him.

 ---

Greg was surprised at himself even, for sharing such personal details of something he'd bottled up for so long inside, and to Mycroft Holmes, no less. Had he really just confided his considering of leaving the force because of his marriage? Lestrade sighed. He really needed to confront his wife soon and to see if there was something to be done to fix things.

Mycroft, he concluded as well as decided, was one of the most logical and straightforward of men he'd ever met. Perhaps he should listen more closely to what he said.

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. I appreciate your candour, perspective and willingness to listen to me ramble. I apologize again for unloading on you like that."

Mycroft lips tugged upwards at Lestrade's reply. "Please, call me Mycroft.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for taking so long! I was caught up with deadlines and was literally drowning in it, wew  
> And also, to add to the fact that I am now without a beta and have been procrastinating reading and editing mistakes. So all mistakes are mine, no doubt, I'm bad in my sentence structures. Ha.
> 
> If anyone is interested in being a beta, contact me!
> 
> This fic has definite content (Unfinished) up to around chapter 20, so I'll be posting every week from now on, you can look forward to do that.
> 
> Other words, enjoy!

Mycroft lips tugged upwards at Lestrade's reply. "Please, call me Mycroft.”

Mycroft knew that he would be staying around for a long time, what with Sherlock as well as their partnership thereof. It would be an oddity to continue calling him Mr Holmes.

"What I have said was simply the truth, please, there is no need to apologize. Feel free to consult me when you're feeling like it. " Mycroft offered with a nod of the head.

Greg beamed at the special offer to call him by his first name. "Thank you, Mr... Err Mycroft. Please call me Greg. No need for my title, especially when it's just us. I would greatly appreciate that. I'd like you to know that you always have me to consult with too, that is if you so desire. I've been told I'm good at keeping confidences as needed."

Greg felt somehow lighter. He had gained something very precious in this short time with Mycroft... a trusted friend.

"I certainly will. " Mycroft said in politeness.

Truthfully, he doubted confiding in anyone in any matter. Especially with a goldfish no less, it would be extremely weird and unheard of in his personal books. Mycroft had never confided in any in what appeared to be forever.

He kept to himself, always.

"Yes thank you, Greg. " He tested the name on his tongue, smiling a little.

Greg’s heart did a flip. Strangely, it felt right to hear his name finally used by Mycroft and decided that he would, from now on, encourage it. "I'm surprised Sherlock slept through all my blathering on about my marriage. He must really be wiped, poor sod.” Greg said amused.

“I've lingered long enough. I best get home. Do ensure you get rest as well."  Greg nodded towards the extra empty bed in the room. "I'm sure no one will mind you kipping over there."

"He must have been wiped out, yes. It's good that he got more rest. " Mycroft smiled, this time a little more genuine. "Yes thank you, I'll consider that. " He laughed, "Do you want a ride home? I can send you off. "

"I wouldn't want to impose, but it would save me a trip on the Tube. Ta for the offer."

"Yes, no harm done. Please, follow me. " Mycroft smiled, tapping his umbrella before walking out of the hospital with Greg following behind. He had already made arrangements. Naturally, the black car was already awaiting them when they both reached the lobby.

Greg is amazed yet again at the ease Mycroft exuded in the power he seemingly wields, even if it was just miraculously having cars at the ready for him all the time. He reached out his hand to shake Mycroft's. "Well, I suppose this is me leaving. Good night, Mycroft."

He is still reluctant to go home to a wife he barely knows any more.

"Oh, one more thing. I left Sherlock a cold case. Give it to him only if he behaves, yeah?"

"Good night… Greg. "

Mycroft was rather liking the way their relationship was going. He had always been fond of people that were hard working in their own way, striving from the bottom to the top. People like these were usually very loyal and trustworthy, it was hard to come by. "I will, I'm sure he will be thrilled to obtain it. "

Mycroft shook the hand Lestrade offered and for the first time in a long time, his senses tingled. Greg's hand was warm and rough and it had felt, terrifyingly, sentimental.

\---

Greg was becoming aware that he was prolonging this good bye. He discovered once again that he really enjoyed being in Mycroft's presence. He wasn't particularly hard on the eyes either. Tall, with legs that seemed to go on forever, always well dressed and groomed...

Oh he definitely noticed that he smelled good, and those eyes…

He had to admit he had a thing for eyes, they were the window to the soul after all... And this was a soul he could find himself getting lost in if he wasn't careful.

Mycroft smiled tentatively, "Well then, sleep well Greg. " Mycroft said politely before letting go of his hand, he nodded his head minutely before turning around and walking back to Sherlock's ward.

Upon entering, he saw Sherlock looking at him. "Awake now, brother mine? " He asked as he walked in and sat down next to Sherlock.

"Yes. " Sherlock drawled with sarcasm in his voice, though still weak and hoarse.

"Lestrade had come to visit you, he just went off. " Mycroft updated as he busied himself with adjusting Sherlock's pillows and blankets, feeling his forehead for temperature.

Sherlock quirked a small smile, laughing quietly. "Yes and I see brother dearest, you've grown attached. " Sherlock retorted with a matter of fact tone.

It was obvious, the way Mycroft acted, funny really, he knew Mycroft well after all. He tilted his head to stare into Mycroft's eyes, obviousness in his eyes.

Mycroft frowned, his eyebrows raising. "Certainly not Sherlock, you're hallucinating. The withdrawals, must be. " He carded his hand through Sherlock's curls as he skilfully diverted the topic, allowing his worry for Sherlock to surface.

"You feeling okay? " He whispered, casting Lestrade into the back of his mind.

All Sherlock replied was a small hum as he shivered from the fever, his heavy lidded eyes slowly fluttering close as he enjoyed his brother's mothering.

 ---

Greg entered his apartment, shedding his Mack onto a chair backing. He threw his keys nonchalantly into the bowl on the side table near the door as he walked into the house.

There was minimal light shining from the light fixture over the kitchen sink for him to manoeuvre around without turning on any more lights.

He shucked off his shoes, placing them near the door. Caroline hated people wearing shoes through the house. It was a pet peeve of her that he'd violated on occasion, especially those times when he came home dead on his feet or after a pub night where he'd had more than he should have.

This made him think better of just leaving his Mack on the chair as he shuffled back and placed it on the hanger instead. He'd hear about that in the morning if he didn't put it in the closet and he was frankly not in the mood for any bickering.

He knew early on in their relationship her penchant for being exceptionally neat and orderly. In the early days, she'd been more forgiving and lenient. But over the past couple of years he felt that everything he did, try as hard as he might to follow her structured house rules, some of which he'd learn after discovering this fact, had seemed to annoy her sense of order.

He quietly entered their bedroom. Seeing her already asleep, he went over to wash up in the ensuite.

He undressed down to his pants, making sure to put his clothes away before slipping into bed with her. He picked up his mobile to check the time and then placed it to charge on his bedside table. Placing his arms behind his head on the pillow, he found he couldn't get to sleep just yet.

His trip to the cafe and later to the hospital had been replaying in his mind constantly on a loop. It was rather embarrassing but he admitted that he was thinking of how good it felt to talk and actually be with Mycroft.

Caroline shifted in her sleep towards him, placing a slim hand on his arm, making him smile lopsidedly. When she was in sleep, she often reached for him when he got home late.  He hunkered down a bit to be face to face with her, she looked so peaceful and beautiful. He remembered that she had been the one that had pursued him at the beginning. He'd been in a casual relationship with a co-worker of hers named Josh, who'd invited him to a join a pub night. By the end of the night, she'd been flirting with him nonstop and had shamelessly slipped him her number.

He'd let her know he was currently seeing Josh and thought that was the end of it. But it wasn't. Josh stopped seeing him shortly after that for some reason. And then a few days later, had called him out of the blue suing she got his number from Josh.

Their relationship had been like exhilarating at first. They couldn't keep their hands off of each other.  Their mutual friends and family had always said they were a beautiful couple and teased what beautiful children they'd make. Greg wanted a family. He thought Caroline did too, but they were childless. Perhaps that was another area they could focus on to repair their marriage. He thought she wanted the things he did from a marriage.

When had things changed?


	7. Chapter 7

Mycroft continued to take care of Sherlock as the days turned to weeks and carried on. Lestrade visited Sherlock whenever he could and when he couldn't go all the way there, he had met up with Mycroft. This in turn routinely fitted into a once in a week schedule.

Mycroft was a rather busy man, he had to do this work, additionally with the toll of taking care of his brother. Though he denies it, he was slowly getting affected by this change. It had only been a month but Mycroft had unconsciously been surviving only on toasts and coffee and much less, sleep. It had felt terrible, he was losing sleep and he was a mess, though on the outside he had looked only a little rumpled.

Mycroft had also taken to updating Lestrade with Sherlock's condition and on that path, had managed to inevitably, made some small talk with the DI. He now knew what Lestrade liked or disliked, his peculiar taste of rock music as well as his not so well-behaved childhood. It was both perplexing and interesting, it had made Mycroft wanted to know more about this particular man.

And conversations weren’t supposed to be one sided, so Mycroft had shared some of his stories, his hobbies. They had built quite a trust-worthy relationship. What Mycroft would even dare consider, which he rarely did as he sees everyone as acquaintances at best, a friend that he could keep. Also adding to the fact (shamefully) that the DI was rather good looking and fit for his age.

 --

Sherlock's condition was getting a little better. He had been taken off the different IVs and heart monitors, transferring himself into a normal ward where he fussed day and night that he 'wanted to get out of this hell'. 

It was better though, Mycroft decided, to let Sherlock stay. It was easier to pinpoint his location, keep track of him and he didn't want to risk it. It was better if Sherlock stayed until the drugs was wiped out and withdrawals came to a complete halt.

He had been talking to Greg, and had known that his marriage didn't seem to be improving much either.

It was no secret to Mycroft's family that Mycroft was gay, he had always known it from the start, being a little different from the rest of the crowd, not that he particularly cared. Mycroft last dated when he was in high school, but he had realized after the evident breakup that he just wasn't designed to fit with other humans.

It proved to be too complicated, it messed with his brains. They wouldn't understand either. That was why Sherlock had been snarkily making jokes here and there of Mycroft actually finding a goldfish that he liked. It was childish and unnerving and was on the back of Mycroft's mind all the time.

Since, he had indeed found a curious attachment to the DI. Not that he would do anything about it, he would never.

 --

There was a fight.

Greg had had enough and finally confronted his wife about her cheating.

Greg had been called in during dinner with his wife the prior evening. She must've figured he'd be gone for the rest of the night on a scene. But she was mistaken. He'd only been gone a couple of hours as the case was determined quickly to be related to one of Dimmock's and was then taken over by the other DI. 

When he returned home, she was gone. She came home in the early morning hours smelling of sex and someone else's cologne as soon as she entered their apartment.

He'd been sitting in the living room waiting for her and he had drunk a few beers for liquid courage. The rest of the night was a bitter row with her and then her tearful begging for forgiveness and promises it wouldn't happen again.

He'd told her he couldn't look at her at the moment and needed time to think as he left their apartment.

It was 5am and he was barely functioning at the moment, he was exhausted from a close to 48-hour shift, then being called in for a couple of hours, followed by returning home to confront his wife. He walked in the rain with no particular destination but to get away from his life at the moment.

In his haste to leave, he forgot his Mack and wallet. He started shivering and craved a cigarette in the worst way. He'd left those behind as well. He did manage to have her mobile with him.

He'd been twiddling with it when he'd had his row with her.

Demanding she let him see it.

The evidence on their damned her even more in regards to her illicit affair showing numerous texts with her lover. He was several blocks away and the sun was rising.

He didn't want to go home. He didn't know where or who to turn to...

But that then he thought of Mycroft. 

He had memorized the number earlier for emergency purposes and decided then to text from Caroline's mobile.

 

**Mycroft, this is Greg. Confronted the Mrs last night and out in the cold right now. Could use a friend right now. -GL**

 

Mycroft was just about to nod off when his phone chimed. His eyes fluttered open, still tired, he hoped it wasn't some government emergency. To his surprise however, it was Greg. Greg that he had just met two days ago. Frowning at the message, he immediately replied.

 

**Yes, please. I'll send a car. My place, if you do not mind residing there. -MH**

 

Greg had never been to Mycroft's house before but he had nothing to hide, and the DI needed a place to crash after all. A perfectly reasonable situation.

Mycroft got out of bed, his feet touching the cool floor. He shuddered a little, hurrying to the toilet to make himself at the least, presentable. Wearing a suit in the middle of the night would be absolutely atrocious, he decided to retain his silk robe. He hoped his presence would be a comfort for Greg, he was rather bad at showing empathy after all.

Greg was relieved to get the text back from Mycroft. He was concerned that he presumed too much regarding this newly formed friendship with the secretive and imposing man. 

He texted back.

 

**Mycroft,**

**Apologies for any inconvenience. Appreciate the assist. I'm near west side of Clapham Common. – GL**

 

He was drenched and tired and thankful to know a car would pick him up. To where, he didn't care at the moment, so long as it wasn't his apartment or out wandering aimlessly in the rain through the park he'd found himself at.

Within fifteen minutes, he spotted a black sedan idling near the entrance he'd noted. The driver got out of the car opening the back door indicating to him he should get in. "Good morning, Mr Lestrade, please enter. Mr Holmes is expecting you."

Those were the best words he could have heard. He responded dully with a "Cheers, mate" before he slipped into the warmth of the car, leaning his wet head back against the seat rest, closing his eyes a bit.

 --

It seemed like he'd just closed his eyes seconds ago when he was grudgingly awakened by the driver. He'd slept through the drive and was let out in a garage. He had no idea where he was until he was led through to a door which on the other side of was a waiting Mycroft.

He pushed his hands through his wet hair in a nervous manner. "Good morning, Mycroft. Thank you for rescuing my sorry arse. Didn't want to trouble you, but just need some time to crash and think through some things... Get sorted a bit... Ya know."

Greg watched Mycroft warily, his brown orbs glistening with unanswered pleas, afraid he'd be turned away, hopeful to find a place of shelter for even a couple of hours.

Mycroft smiled, eyes softening at Greg's nervousness. "Yes please do come in, this is the place I reside. "

Greg relaxed audibly as his shoulders slumped forward, grimacing as he looked at Mycroft and smiled. “Thanks mate, I’ll stay only for a while, I won’t disturb you too much.”

Mycroft laughed lightly, "Feel free to stay anytime you want, I do not mind. " He cleared his throat, walking into the house. "I hope it's to your liking. "

It was just a simple house, nothing much. Contrary to believe, Mycroft was not a man of flare, he actually did like the feeling of warmth and comfort. "We can talk later. For now, I believe you should rest. "

Greg sighed in relief at the graciousness of his host and his generous offer. He was touched especially to be granted the magnanimous offer to 'stay any time'. That was a dangerous offer to give him or anyone at that matter, one he didn't want to abuse.

Greg was hesitant at first to move forward into the minimalist and practical comfortable home. He became self-conscious of his sodden appearance. He slipped out of his wet shoes and socks at the door, afraid he'd leave a trail of wet and muck.

"Er, um, you mind if I take a shower first? I hate to impose, but a robe or something wouldn't go amiss as my clothes dried as well. "

"Oh yes, sure." Mycroft nodded as he proceeded to go to the bathroom, tilting his head to face Greg, "Follow me. "

He led Greg to the bathroom and then turned to his bedroom to fish out clothes that were suitable for the DI. He managed to salvage a blue robe that he could not remember ever wearing. But it seemed clean and new, so he dusted it off and returned to the bathroom, "Hope this will do. " He commented.


	8. Chapter 8

Mycroft did not know why he had allowed the DI to break through his defenses so easily, he blamed it on the aura that Greg seemed to hold.

Greg had peeled down to his pants when Mycroft returned with the robe. He wasn't modest or prudish about undressing in front of other blokes. For years he'd been undressed in locker rooms for sports, his gym and at the Met.

However, this was Mycroft and his home and he was attracted to the man, so he noticed how Mycroft reacted.  "Erm, cheers, mate" He said as he took the robe. Blabbering on, "Your shower looks a treat. Much bigger than mine. Will feel great on these old bones."

Mycroft widened his eyes a little, a slow blush creeping up his cheeks. He coughed, turning away and passing the robe to Greg before leaving. Mycroft was a solidary man, he had not, and is not used to in any way, seeing naked people often. Not to mention Greg.

 --

Greg stepped into the shower, chuffed at having noticed the blush and reaction from Mycroft, who was typically schooled at not showing any kind of reactions. Was he interested? If so, that sure flattered his ego. But soon, Greg talked his way out of what he saw was just a polite gentleman not used to being around others in an unclad state.

He felt more human and warm again after the shower.

He entered the living area of Mycroft's home, looking around for the man of the house. "Mycroft?" He looked around apprehensively.

Mycroft was sitting on his own chair, doing some work on his phone. He smiled, the paleness of his skin reflecting in the dim light, robe a silky black that defined Mycroft's body. Mycroft was rather tall and lean, not at all that fat that it warranted Sherlock's comments. He did fancy cakes though.

Mycroft nodded, "Shall I show you the guest bedroom? "

Greg yawned at the mention of a bed. "I'm knackered. Yeah, please." 

He followed Mycroft, admiring the view of the man in his sleepwear. Even the look that Mycroft adorned now looked tailor made for him. He'd gotten a glimpse of pale freckled skin just and the light dusting of ginger chest hair peeking out of the top shirt. The man was as always, lithe and graceful, as Greg walked behind him, noticing a slim build and a nice arse.

He must be more tired than he thought, having these thoughts.

He made ready the bed and Mycroft pulled close the drapes to cut out any sunlight.

"This is great. Cheers." He noticed that Mycroft looked tired. "You getting enough sleep? You alright?"

Greg motioned with his hand, patting the side of the bed to get Mycroft to sit. "Here I was, just thinking of myself. How are you?"

Mycroft let out a tired smile," Work, nothing much. "

It was taking a toll on Mycroft naturally, his work schedule was busy and all his free time went towards taking care of Sherlock's needs and meeting Greg. He had been questioning himself, his head had seemed fuzzy since yesterday, he disregarded it though. There was nothing he could do about it, it was probably nothing.

Mycroft raised his eyebrow at Greg's intimate gesture. He sighed in defeat, the bed dipping down as he sat beside Greg. "I'm fine, I don't think you are however. "

Greg shook his head and reached out to touch Mycroft's arm, "Try not to worry about me. I'll get sorted one way or another. We Lestrades are flexible and tough." 

Greg assessed his friend's worn out posture and eyes. Granted he did whatever he could to hide it, it surprised Greg that he could even discern this bit. "You're quite extraordinary, you know that? I hope more people see that about you. You work constantly... I imagine saving the world from itself... and look after that ungrateful brilliant fool of a brother... and you put up with a copper like me too.  Who takes care of you?"

Mycroft throat constricted at that, he had never had someone asked him about his mental and physical wellbeing so personally and directly at that. It seemed as if he cared a lot, but Mycroft quickly disregarded it as Greg's basic nature, lest for any misunderstandings.

No one took care of him, he was naturally, the one that took care of others instead. The one making the decisions, the one with the huge and heavy burden of responsibility. It felt nice to know that someone cared.

It must have been the tiredness.

Mycroft's usually solid walls were slowly slipping away. He felt a little touched.

Mycroft strained a smile, hopelessly shrugging his shoulders. Not able to think of what would be the next plausible action. It must be because of the wool in his brain, he thought.

Greg yawned as he moved down into the pillow and duvet. He patted Mycroft's hand sleepily “You need takin' care of... I'm your guy." He fell asleep soon after.

Mycroft laughed a little before heading back to his own bedroom to rest. He climbed onto the bed and covered the blanket over him, feeling a little cold. He shivered and not long after, he fell asleep as well.

 --

Greg woke feeling rested and was startled as his eyes darted around the room, realizing he was not in his own bed. Then the memories of the night before crashed into his head like a truck, the terrible row he'd had with his wife leading to his running off and now here, in this safe haven Mycroft provided. He put his hands over his face and let out a disparaging sigh.

"Christ!” He shouted in the room at no one in particular. “What am I gonna do?" 

He reviewed the scene from earlier and realized that he couldn’t stop seeing his wife crying repeatedly that she wouldn't do it again, saying she still wanted him and to forgive her. He wasn't one to be a quitter and eventually decided he'd find his way back to her but on terms he'd define... one of which was marriage counselling.

The Met offered it, as there was statistically a high percentage of divorce prevalent in the force. Having decided his next steps regarding to the marriage, he made his way to the ensuite and did his ablutions.

He then went in search of his host, it was around noon. 

"Mycroft?" He wasn't sure if the man was here or perhaps at work.

Surprisingly, Mycroft was still asleep. Mycroft had thought that when he woke up, he would have felt better but he seemed to have developed quite the stuffy nose. His body felt like lead and it felt hard to open his heavy eyelids.

Mycroft groaned inwardly, hadn't the last time been a year ago?

And to add that Lestrade was here in his house. He schooled up his facade and tried to manage his tousled hair before swinging his legs over the bed, walking towards the DI that had been calling him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ye go! Mycroft's sick, let the hurt/comfort begin! If anyone is feeling like it, please do comment, since I'm not sure if there's anyone actively following it woops, how do you like it so far?

Greg was in the kitchen making coffee as he saw Mycroft enter. "I've located your stash of coffees. Quite a variety. Should I pour you a cup as well?” He turned his head and immediately noticed that Mycroft appeared a bit rough, but as usual, putting on his stoic facade.

"You alright? You look dead on your feet. You get any sleep?" Lestrade hovered worriedly.

"Yeah, coffee would be good." Mycroft smiled half-heartedly, what came out was more of a rasp than the normal posh tone that he adorned. Mycroft’s ears flushed with red as he covered his mouth to clear his throat.

"Yes, I'm fine. " He tried again, more firmly this time.

Greg cocked an eyebrow at the obvious falsehood. "You don't sound alright. Why don't you sit down and I'll get brekkie started and bring you that coffee?”  He herded Mycroft out to the living area and made him sit on the settee. "Mind if I turn on the news?"

"Mm by all means. " Mycroft replied, willingly herded by Greg. He turned his head to Greg, "I'm the one that's supposed to cook. You're my guest. "

Greg tutted, "No worries. I enjoy cooking and you are going to just sit and let me. " 

Greg stealthily placed his hand on Mycroft's forehead while changing Telly stations to get the news. "You feel hot. You might be coming down with something."

Mycroft sagged into the seat, allowing Greg to do the cooking as he wasn't really in the mood for false pleasantries, his head ached.

"I'll be fine after I get some rest I'm sure, you do not need to worry unnecessarily so." Mycroft chided in.

Greg frowned, worried for his friend. "I'm going to get you some pain killers. Are they in your ensuite?"

Mycroft didn't understand why Greg was caring so much, he sighed in defeat, "Yes it is. "

Greg hurried off and found the pain killers, sharing a couple into his palm. He also brought a cup of coffee out to Mycroft. "Take those. Should help. I'll be making French toast. Hope that's something you fancy."

"Yes, French toast would be delightful. " Mycroft thanked before swallowing the pain killers dry before taking a sip of the coffee. The cup of coffee was comfy in his hands, the steam warming him up as the liquid pooled and warmed his chest.

"You really don't have to do this, but thank you. I appreciate it. " Mycroft smiled, a little surprised that he had let those words slipped out. He sounded vulnerable, not what people usually associated with him.

Greg smiled, glad he could do something for Mycroft for a change. "It's the least I can do. It'll be ready before you know it. Just rest and take it easy."

Mycroft nodded as he curled himself up on the chair with his knees to his chest, rubbing his arms for warmth. It was getting rather cold in the room now that Greg was gone but Mycroft tried to ignore it, closing his eyes to try to get some more rest.

It wasn't long after that he started lightly shivering, a sheen of sweat covering his body.

Greg had finished the breakfast and was bringing it out to Mycroft when he halted, surprised to see how much worse he'd gotten in the last ten minutes. "Christ, Mycroft, you really aren't well at all, are you?" Greg placed the plated food on a nearby table and went to find a blanket. He quickly returned covering the shivering man with it. He sat next to him. "Tell me how you feel?"

Mycroft squinted his eyes open, feeling marginally terrible than he was before. He sniffed, grimacing at the state that he was. "Just a little cold. " He replied blandly.

Mycroft tried to get up, "We should proceed to eat breakfast. " He answered.

"A little cold my arse. If you're up to eating, here it is." He handed Mycroft the plate.

Mycroft tilted his head up in mild defiance, disliking the way Greg was challenging him. He took the plate and took a bite out of the French toast.

What was supposing a sweet and nice meal felt terrible in Mycroft's mouth, it was sickly sweet and the texture made him gag internally. His appetite might have gone on the down side, he admitted silently to himself.

He shook his head, swallowing the food down forcefully.

His throat felt sore from the abuse of swallowing, he coughed lightly before looking up at Greg. "There. "

Greg had brought in his plate and was eating too, watching and scrutinizing quietly at how Mycroft appeared to force down the breakfast. "Feeling nauseous? You look a bit green after that. Hope it wasn't because of my cooking?" Greg half joked.

"No, your cooking is fine. " Mycroft continued to eat the French toast, not wanting to appear ungrateful. With each bite, it got a little harder to finish.

"My appetite doesn't seem to be agreeing at the moment. " Mycroft admitted when he realized that there was no way he was going to be able to finish this without expelling his stomach’s contents.

"Here let me take that." Greg bent forward as he took the plate of partially eaten food. "You rest here while I do the washing up. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"No, nothing much. “ He paused before deciding to reply.

“My apologies for today, I was the one whom was supposed to comfort you on that matter.  " Mycroft drummed his fingers against the armchair.

"Well looks like we can comfort each other then. I meant what I said last night about being the guy to take care of you should you need it. Today you look like you need some taking care of."

"I... don't need taking care of, but thank you for your offer." Mycroft said grudgingly, a little uncomfortable that Greg seemed so gracious and willing. Mycroft was a lone man, he rarely received such attention. Not that he didn't like it though.

Greg saw the stubborn set of Mycroft's posture, knowing the man was not one to be coddled. But at the same time, Greg found himself still wanting to look out for him. They watched the news in comfortable silence a little while later.

Greg was lost in his thoughts about the recent turning point in his turbulent marriage. He sat, mooning over it for a while before he decided to broach the subject with Mycroft for advice.

"So, I'm thinking to work things out with the Mrs, make another go at fixing things. Go to counselling with her. She seemed she wanted to be with me, would never do it again. But she broke my trust."

Mycroft was about to nod off when he jerked his head up after he heard Greg talking. He struggled to open his eyes, stifling a yawn.

After a few seconds of thought on Greg's question, he replied. "Yes, she broke your trust. And I believe so that she would do it again, she had already betrayed your trust numerous times and have apologized, what makes you think she'll change? " Mycroft shifted in his seat. "Furthermore, counselling will not change a person that does not want to change. But by all means, try if you want. It is good to not regret. "

Lestrade took in the advice as he thought over it, replying. "Thanks, mate for your perspective. I'll think on it." 

Greg realized then that Mycroft must have been quite tired and still appeared unwell. "You should go have a lie down.” He said hastily as he gave a once over at Mycroft. “Your bed may be more comfortable perhaps?"

On normal days, Mycroft would have snorted at that idea.

Sleeping in the day was the worst, single most unproductive thing one could do. But this time, the thought of it made his head light. He nodded minutely, internally berating himself but at the same time, extremely welcoming of that idea. He decided to go the bedroom but swayed slightly when he stood up, stumbling in his footsteps.

It seemed that even his knees had gone weak.

Greg jumped up from the settee at seeing how unstable Mycroft was walking. He placed a gentle hand at his elbow and supported him to the master bedroom. "Easy there. I've got you." 

He pulled back the duvet and took Mycroft's bathrobe from him as Mycroft slipped under the covers. He pulled it up a bit and went into the ensuite, coming back with a glass of water. "Drink this. You need to stay hydrated. Can I get you anything else?" Greg looked worriedly at the ashen faced ill man.

 --

On the way to the bedroom, Mycroft had unconsciously leaned towards Greg, seeking and enjoying the warmth that radiated from Greg. He almost sighed when Greg had let go of him. Mycroft sipped on the water, thanking Greg.

"I don't think so, no. Just a little rest would be good. "

Greg took the empty glass and replaced a fresh glass of water by Mycroft's bedside coupled with more pain killers should they be required. He'd also brought back with him a thermometer to check Mycroft's temperature.

The read out made him grimace in sympathy.

"38.5 Celsius. You've got yourself quite the fever brewing. You've perhaps got flu. If this doesn't come down soon, you should see a doctor.”

Mycroft hated seeing doctors and if all else fails, he would have a personal doctor to see to, not that he bothered mentioning it though. Mycroft raised his eyebrows at the mention of his fever, his shoulders sagged in defeat as he closed his eyes and snuggled into the pillow. "Hhmmph."

Greg chuckled lightly at the indignant sulky pout from the British government. He found the look to be endearing as his fondness for the man increased at letting him bear witness to this particular side of him. And also, to be trusted enough to be here now.

He placed a gentle hand on the sick man's head and bade him a soft "sleep well". Surprised at himself for the intimacy of the touch and that Mycroft allowed it.

"I'll be in the living area. Call if you need anything." Greg patted Mycroft’s shoulders. He’ll be sure to periodically check on Mycroft throughout as well, to reassure himself he wasn't getting worse.


	10. Chapter 10

Mycroft slipped in and out of sleep, occasionally catching a glimpse of the DI. His mind was fuzzy and he felt fatigue, like he was covered in a warm blanket he didn't want to get out of. When he opened his eyes once again however, with more clarity in his mind than before, he couldn't identify how long he had slept and his throat was dry and painful. He licked his lips as his eyes darted around the room.

Greg walked into the bedroom, seeing that Mycroft was groggy but awake. He sat down on the side of the bed, handing over some more pain killers and a large glass of water. "Drink it all."

Mycroft was just about to ask for water when his eyes widened in amusement as Greg appeared ironically with the glass of water. He nodded, silently thanking Greg before downing the water thirstily.

He waited for a few seconds to have the water downed before he rasped weakly, "How long? " Smiling pathetically at the state of his voice.

Greg took the emptied glass and placed it on the bedside table. "You've slept most of the day away.  It's evening now. You think you could eat something? I can make some broth or if you want something else, just name it."

"Yes, broth would be good. " Mycroft was astonished that he had managed to sleep for so long. He still needed to take care of his work tomorrow, and Sherlock.

He still needed to check on Sherlock, he shouldn't be wasting time here.

"Sure I'll make you some." Greg replied as he glanced at Mycroft, noticing he was agitated. "You seem worried about something. Anything I can help with? I did phone Anthea and let her know you were ill. She said she'd rearrange your schedule and manage things in your absence."

"I also checked in with the hospital regarding Sherlock. He's driving them all up the bend. I spoke with him and promised I'd drop off another cold case if he behaved." Greg quickly added.

"Thank you Gregory. It's just, " Mycroft pinched his nose and sighed, his face burrowing into the pillow as he mumbled, "work. Work I /need/ to finish. " He snorted a little, hair tousled from the sleep, "Yes, a cold case would keep him quiet. "

It had seemed that the more Greg was with him, the harder it was to keep the posh image he had for himself. He was human after all, and he was in his own home.

Greg frowned and put the thermometer to use again. "You're still running a fever. You're not well.  You've probably run yourself down working too much and taking care of Sherlock. Work can wait a little longer. Anthea would let you know if there was something critical for you right now."

"Hmm. " What made him say those next few words, he would never know. He might have just felt the urge to confine in someone. Mycroft curled inwards, tugging the blanket tighter to himself. He looked up at Greg with half his face underneath the blanket, "I blame myself you know. For what happened to Sherlock, he could have been so much better if I was there with him from the start. " He fiddled with the blanket.

"I failed him. "

Greg is still seated on the bed. He frowned at the unusual behaviour Mycroft was showing, concerned for his friend, he placed a reassuring hand on Mycroft's arm. "Sherlock is a grown man.  He makes decisions, good or bad in life. We all do. You haven't failed him. He is fortunate to have you to watch out for him. You've given that lad more than he realizes and one day I'd like to be able to see him acknowledge it. If we're lucky, I think we just may." Greg patted his arm.

"Too many thoughts in that big brain of yours right now. Just concentrate on getting well for now."  Greg rose from the bed, "Let’s get some broth in you. I'll get it started. Won't take long."

"Hmm. " Mycroft responded in affirmative, still hating the fact that he was sick, and feeling extremely vulnerable at that.

He rested for a short while.

 --

Greg was soon back with a tray of soup, some toast and another large glass of water. He placed the tray nearby. "Here let's get you comfortable...” He helped Mycroft sit up, placing pillows behind him.  He placed the tray on the sick man's lap. "Eat up what you can."

Mycroft didn't think he would be able to stomach the toast, he could try the soup though. He nodded minutely as he reached out to take the spoon.

"Thank you Greg. " He voiced sorely. Mycroft brought the spoon of soup to his mouth and swallowed it, better to get it over soon.

He finished it soon after, placing the tray onto the bedside table beside him.

Greg looked around and spotted the television before mentioning, "If you're feeling up to it, I see you've got a fancy Telly set up here.  Do you want to watch a movie together?"

"By all means. " Mycroft raked his fingers through his ginger hair. Casting a glance at Lestrade, were they going to share a bed? "What movie would you want to watch? "

"You see any of the Daniel Craig James Bond movies? Could go for that or something like it. You?"  Greg made himself comfortable on the other side of the bed from Mycroft. He leaned up against the head board, lying on top of the duvet.

Mycroft scooted over to make space for the DI, the queen size bed fitted both men perfectly, their shoulders almost touching one another. Mycroft nodded his head, "James Bond is fine, though I've not indulged myself in movies for a long time. "

Mycroft was suddenly quite aware of the situation that they were in, the warmth of Greg beside him.

Greg grinned boyishly, excited to watch the film with Mycroft. "I think Casino Royale is on tap first.  Daniel Craig is hot! Are all agents in MI6 like that?" Greg teased.

He turned on the TV and checked the movie listings, finding what he wanted. Greg hunkered down further on the bed, not noticing how close he was to Mycroft, being fixated on the program they've started to watch.

"No, of course not. " Mycroft raised one of his eyebrows in amusement. Truth be told, he hadn't really watched any of the James Bond shows. He kept quiet as they both started watching the movie.

Greg smiled and chuckled. "Ah, too bad. I've seen this one a couple times. You can tell me how accurate this is."

Mycroft quirked a smile, nodding his head as he glanced at Greg. Greg seemed almost celestial like when he smiled, Mycroft whipped his eyes back to the TV. "I'll be sure too. Though I have no doubts that it would be inaccurate. " He joked.

Greg mocked surprise and joked, "James Bond movies inaccurate? Next you'll tell me that Santa isn't real!"  He liked seeing Mycroft perk up and smile. A genuine smile that he, Greg Lestrade, could get out of the man.

"Hmm, it isn't real though. " Mycroft muttered under his breath. Mycroft adjusted himself to make himself more comfortable before he focused on the opening scene of the movie. He quietly observed the action scene.

Greg was quietly amused while he furtively watched Mycroft watch this movie. He really enjoyed and appreciated being able to share this time with this man. He found himself feeling more and more comfortable with his friend.

"It doesn't have to be real to be fun. "

Mycroft shrugged, "I guess that's true, it is interesting to see what other… civilians interpret spies as."

The both of them watched in silence before Mycroft looked at the time before looking back at Greg, his eyes drooping a little from grogginess. "So? Are you staying for the night? "

Greg hadn't realized how late it had gotten. He'd been through a roller coaster of emotions. Upset about his failing marriage, worried about Mycroft's health and to mow where he was comfortable.  "Let's finish watching and then I'll probably need to go. I've got a shift in the morning." He really didn't want to leave but didn't want to further impose on his ill friend. Somewhere towards the end of the movie, he fell asleep.

Mycroft though tired, pulled through the movie with utmost concentration. When the movie finished and he came to his surroundings, he had noticed that Greg had fallen asleep. He laughed lowly to himself as he glanced at Greg, his lips slightly parted from sleeping.

Greg looked infinitely younger when he was sleeping, his wrinkles smoothing out when he was not stressing over his work or his life, safe for the strands of hair that was turning grey. It was then Mycroft realized with a small twinge in his heart that he might really have been falling for Gregory, he looked perfect, both in the inside and outside. He wanted to know more about him.

He was hesitant though, he was bad at human relations. Mycroft sighed, there was no need to wake the poor man up. He would let him rest there till he woke. Feeling still slightly sick himself, Mycroft turned off the television as well as the nearby lamp before sliding down onto the mattress. He closed his eyes and fell into slumber, unconsciously facing Greg as he was a nice source of warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel the small sparks? Aaaaah


	11. Chapter 11

Greg woke to the sound of a phone going off, he groaned as his hand blindly reached out, searching for its location by the side of the bed. His phone sounded odd. Not his usual ringtone, but it wasn’t surprising since Sherlock had mucked with his phone before. It was dark and he was disoriented, not realizing he was in Mycroft's bed. He leaned over the sleeping form next to him, thinking that it was Caroline. Greg groggily picked up the phone and placed it to his ear.

" 'ello, Lestrade speaking." He grumbled.

The other end spoke up... It was Sherlock.

Mycroft snapped his eyes open, alerted that there was a presence over him. He squinted his eyes, mind still sluggish from illness, "Greg? " He propped his body up with his arm as he rubbed his eyes. He could hear the soft voice of the opposite end of the phone.

What he heard made him still as he watched with intent eyes.

Greg felt Mycroft shift under him, snapping more fully awake and hearing Sherlock question as to why he was answering the phone, it was now making more sense now that he realized that he was in Mycroft’s bed. He made a mistake.

"Sherlock, it's not what you think... He's not well... “

“Shut it... Ah, ah, ah... No, not shagging your brother... Wait. What? You can delete whatever it is you've pictured... It's not real anyway. Don't bugger him with this, Sherlock... He's ill. Alright, here he is." Greg frowned and harrumphed as he handed the phone to Mycroft "It's for you."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows at the replies made by Greg, it had seemed that his insufferable brother would really be the one to ultimately ruin everything.

Mycroft took the phone from Greg, bringing it up to his ear. He sighed exasperatedly, "Yes brother mine? What brings you at this hour? "

 --

Sherlock had escaped the hospital and had called his brother to complain about it. Hearing Lestrade answer his brother's personal phone in the early morning hours had his brain in overdrive deducing.  He'd thought his brother to be attracted to the Inspector, however, didn't think he'd act on it, since Lestrade was married. This certainly was an interesting twist. He knew he couldn't pass up this opportunity to tweak his brother. 

"Hello, brother mine.” Sherlock smirked. “You seem to have besmirched my police man. Do keep your pudgy paws off him, would you?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he heard Sherlock's childish remarks. He dismissed Sherlock's snarky comment as his deductions flew in directions. The sounds of the background, the way he seemed unusually snarky and alive, Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock, where do you think you'll run off too? Do you even have a place to go back to? " He glanced at Greg and diverted his gaze before he pulsed his lips. "Stop with this insufferable act. "

Sherlock was just happy he wasn't in that god damn hell hole anymore.

"Brother dearest, you really thought you could hold me up for that long? Has your brain stopped working? Too stuffed by Greg the goldfish? " He ranted off. Sherlock felt fine, he /was/ fine.

But he did indeed have no place in mind, his flat was provided by Mycroft after all, and Mycroft would definitely not have allowed him to stay there, let alone sneak into where there are tons of security cameras and people patrolling the area. He growled. "I despise you. "

Mycroft was sick and really not in the mood for the attitude of his baby brother. "Come back, I will keep watch of you just this once more. " He clarified.

Sherlock eyes grew into slits, "I don't need your pity or your help brother mine." Sherlock snarled as he snapped his phone shut. He brought his hands up and pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes, rowing it in frustration.

He sat on the nearby bench, alone and cold.

 --

Greg heard only part of the conversation but he deduced that whatever happened with Sherlock didn't sound good. "Everything alright? You look more green around the gills than you did before. What's the git done now?"

Mycroft was annoyed, all he ever did was try to help the man that didn't want to save himself. And all he got was this. Mycroft growled under his breath, heat spiking up due to his frustration.

"Nothing, except he ran off again. " He replied coldly, feeling slightly hurt. "And proclaiming that he despises me. " He said bitterly.

 --

Sherlock was alone, on a bench in some park that he walked far enough to reach. He had just hung off the conversation with his brother, feeling disgusted and repulsive suddenly, at everything around him. It seemed like the whole world was against him, laughing, snickering and the worst of all, pitying.

Who were they?

Who were they to judge his life.

Sherlock clawed his arms in frustration, yanking his sensitive curls as he growled into the dawn’s silence. He just wanted the quiet but everything seemed on edge, the back of his hairs standing up. It was the side effects, hyper sensitivity, hallucinations, mood alterations and all Sherlock wanted was to stop. He pulled his knees together and buried his face into it.

He wanted brother mine and his warm hands and his soft words, but his pride far exceeded it.

 --

Mycroft looked back at Greg with tired eyes, his eye bags prominent. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this. " All hopes of maintaining a good impression to the DI flew out of the window, what would the man say after he realized that Mycroft Holmes was just this... this being?

Greg grew concerned at hearing that Sherlock had escaped the rehab hospital and was out on his own doing who knew what. What really concerned him as well was seeing the man beside him being affected by his brother's chaotic choices and hurtful manner towards him. 

Greg was quick to reassure Mycroft. "You have nothing to be sorry for. All I've been privileged to see is a man who would do anything to help and protect his brother and someone who doesn't deserve to be treated poorly by him or anyone. Thank you for letting me into your life as a friend. Is there anything I can do? Is there anywhere he might go? I can go to him and see if he's alright. Bring him here if that's what you want?"

Mycroft shook his head as he laid back on his pillow, "He'll come on his own accord, I'm sure. We'll just have to wait. If I do find him and drag him here, he'll feel compelled to escape." He looked down at his hands as he clenched and unclenched it, "Thank you Gregory, your ability to see the good in everything is astonishing. " The corner of his lips curled to form a smile.

"I hope you're right. Did you capture the phone number he was using? May let us know where he might be?"

Greg looked at the early morning hour. 

"Sorry I fell asleep on you during the movie. Did you enjoy it?"

There was a slight pause before Mycroft started. "It's fine, my team has already decoded the number I just sent. I know where he is. " Mycroft laughed lowly, forgoing the topic in favour of the other. " Yes, the movie was fine. Astonishing really. Interesting. "

Greg looked at Mycroft, astonished. Impressed yet again at how quickly Mycroft and his team of minions got things done. "Fast work. I'm glad you're on top of it. I'm also happy to hear you liked the James Bond movie. That just means you'll have to watch the rest with me some time."  Greg asked, his tone one of small hope that he would be able to visit his friend more frequently. One that was becoming dearer to him every moment it seemed.

Mycroft turned his head as he observed Greg, eyes softening at the hope in Greg's voice.

He wouldn't mistake it though, Lestrade still loved his wife and it was impossible for him to be liked. It must be an overachieving friend Greg was. "Yes, feel free to come anytime."

Greg nodded hastily as he got off the bed and excused himself, padding into the ensuite to relieve himself. He looked in the mirror grudgingly to freshen himself up. The unfamiliar emotions whirling in him was making him increasingly panicked.

"What is going on with you Greg?"  He asked of his reflection with a low angered whisper. "You still have a wife and you're acting like a love sick fool for Mycroft." He groaned as he splashed the cool water on his face. He stood there for a few minutes to collect himself before he went back out with more pain killers and a glass of water. He quietly and dutifully checked Mycroft's temperature and hummed a little, deciding to forgo the train of thought for the caring of his friend.

"Still a tad high, but much better than yesterday. How do you feel?" He handed the medication and water to Mycroft.

"I feel like death. " Mycroft sulked quietly, "I need to check on my work. " He took the water with slightly shaky hands and sipped on it, swallowing the medication.

"What about you? You don't seem very good either. " Mycroft looked at Greg up and down, staring at him pointedly.

Greg frowned and put his hands through his sleep tousled hair. The strands going in contrary directions. "Just a lot on my mind. I'm alright. I should get ready for my shift. I'll call and check in on you during the day. Please stay home and get some more rest." 

Greg nodded and headed to the guest bathroom to shower, shave and get ready for his day. He knew he would have to contact his wife. She'd left him some texts on her mobile requesting to meet him for lunch today. He picked up the mobile and texted back he would.

 --

"Have a good day then Gregory. " Mycroft offered, trying to at least, in some form, to comfort Greg. Mycroft forced himself out of bed, his legs swinging off the bed and onto the floor as his feet planted onto the ground. He'll do his work after Greg leave at home, he still unfortunately, had to deal with affairs pertaining to South Korea and in addition, a keeping track to Sherlock.

He rolled his shoulders experimentally, stretching to relieve himself from the ache.

Greg tried to entice Mycroft with some breakfast soon after, crossing his arms. “I can make you something before I leave. I'm having coffee and toast. Anything for you? Can make extra of what I'm having."

"No, it's fine. I'm not hungry. " Mycroft rejected the offer politely as he stood up to head towards the bathroom. His robe was loose and one side of it hung off his shoulders. Mycroft walked to the toilet, "If you'll excuse me, I'll go take a shower. "

"I hate leaving you when you're still ill and worrying after your git of a brother. You need looking after." He watched Mycroft closely as he headed into the loo.

When Mycroft was out of sight, Greg dialled Anthea. She answered professionally as always.

"Good morning, Inspector Lestrade. How may I be of assistance?"

"Anthea, I'm worried about that boss of yours. He's still not well and I suspect when I leave for work shortly he's going to try and tough it out and work without rest or look after himself properly again. Is it possible to have someone, like you perhaps, keep an eye on him today? I'll check in as best I can. "

Anthea was pleased that there was someone who cared about her boss. She knew what he was talking about and reassured him. "It's very kind of you to be concerned for Mr Holmes' well-being. I assure you that I will come to his home today and work from there. I can monitor his health accordingly."

Greg sighed relieved. "Thank you Anthea. Bye." 

"Good day, Inspector Lestrade." The phone hung.

Mycroft frowned at the care that Greg was showing, he didn't need babying, he knew when he was capable and when he wasn't. Mycroft stepped into the shower as he turned it on, relieving himself from the stress and ache as hot water rained down his body. He sighed minutely, enjoying the therapeutic sensations that the shower provided.

He stood there for a while, seemingly lost track of time before the water started turning cold. He then proceeded to dry himself and dress himself up a little more formally.

Greg saw Mycroft dressed to perfection as was his usual. He looked gorgeous to him. He stared a bit, admiring the man’s body and demeanour all over again. Greg caught himself staring, shaking himself out of the attracted fog he was in, reminding himself he was still married.

He stammered a little.

"Um, you look yourself again, despite the paleness from being ill. Please don't overwork yourself.  You're still not recovered entirely. Anthea says she'll be by to assist you. I really must dash off to work and a lunch with the wife. Wish me luck." He gave a half frown at the wife comment, not looking forward to more drama. "I'll call later, yeah?"

"Yes, we'll keep in contact. " Mycroft smiled, smoothing his clothes. It felt good to have his armours up again, he felt better. Mycroft cleared his throat a little, "My apologies for my state yesterday, I didn't expect that things would turn for the worse. "

He felt a little exposed now that Greg had seen a completely different side of him. "Tell me how it goes today. Good luck Gregory. " He offered.

Greg was dressed in his old clothes from earlier looking a bit rumpled. But at least he was freshly groomed. He had spare clothes in his locker at work to change into at work. "Thank you for letting me stay this long. You've been a real mate. Good bye." 

Greg headed for the door and figured he'd locate the nearest Tube station.


	12. Chapter 12

 

Now that Lestrade was gone, Mycroft sighed. His shoulders drooped as he carded through his hair. He had to put on the front that he was fine when Lestrade was there, but he was feeling pretty ragged. He dragged himself into his home office as he stretched his arms up before starting to do the gruelling work in front of him.

Greg's day at work was busy as usual. Only Sally of course noticed his poor clothing choice when he got in and took the piss until he changed his clothes in the locker room. He had his lunch hour with the wife who begged him to come home and that she'd change her ways. They agreed to go to couple's counselling and that apparently was that.

He returned to the office and after a short while, texting Mycroft.

 

**Hi, met the Mrs and trying again. Looks like I’m headed back home again. Hope you're getting more rest. Don't overwork yourself. Let me know how you are.  – GL**

 

Mycroft was just a tad disappointed when Greg had messaged him that he was not heading there and that he was trying with his wife again. He wished Greg the best before he continued working, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration when he couldn't seem to concentrate properly.

He shook his buzzing head and continued working. Holmes were Holmes after all, they never took care of themselves. Mycroft had been there the whole day since Greg was gone, he had forgotten about the time.

Greg's work day was hellacious and longer than he anticipated. He left for home late that night, but decided he needed to call Mycroft to check on him again. He felt badly that he wasn't headed back to Mycroft's for the night like he did before. He really felt more comfortable with the man since he let him into his home and let him see a different side to him rarely if ever shown to anyone. He called Mycroft's number hoping he'd pick up, so he could talk versus text.

Mycroft was delirious by the time Greg called, he had not eaten, nor had he done anything except work. His hands flew to his head when he heard the shrill ringing of the phone. It was loud and intrusive as if his head was stuffed with cotton, heavy and dull as he winced. He blindly grasped for the phone and shakily brought it up to his ears, licking his lips a few times to wet it.

"Yeah? " He half rasped. The voice that was not used the whole day came out as nearly voiceless. Mycroft eyes were fluttering as his fever had climbed up throughout the day without him noticing it, it was a miracle that he could overwork his brain while still working at the same time.

Greg was confused at first if he actually got the number he called. The raspy voice was definitely not what he'd expect to hear from the well-spoken and etiquette driven man he knew.

"Hello? Mycroft? That you?"

Mycroft wasn't able to concentrate on anything outside of his work and it took him a few seconds to process what was going on. It had seemed that the ID had called him, he glanced at the clock, astonished that time had passed so fast. He was about to answer in affirmative when a hacking cough took over his body.

He doubled over as he clutched his stomach protectively, the muscles spasming and clenching against and towards each other. He dropped the phone as he concentrated on getting his breath back.

Greg grew concerned at hearing the dreadful coughing and what sounded like the phone dropping. He called out loudly hoping Mycroft could hear him. "Mycroft! Are you alright? You're worrying me. Do you need any help? Ambulance maybe?”

He waited for a response but got none.

His worry spiked up and he hurriedly reassured Mycroft. “Regardless, stay on the line and I'll come to you now."

"Hmm. " Mycroft replied, his eyes hazy as his eyelids drooped heavier. He was so hot, that a touch would be all it needed to gauge the seriousness of this situation. He curled in towards himself on the floor, seeking the coolness of the floor.

He struggled to open his eyes, somewhere in the back of his mind, astonished that he had let things happened to this way.

Groaning, the onslaught of coughing continued, rendering him powerless as it ragged through his body.

Greg dialled for an ambulance on his office phone soon after and kept his mobile open to stay in contact with Mycroft.

"I'm coming and so is medical aid. Hang on." 

Greg ran to a zebra, got in and turned the flashing lights on. He sped over to Mycroft's as quickly as he could. He arrived slightly after the ambulance. The medical staff were already approaching the door. Greg had contacted Anthea enroute via the zebra's handset and she had arranged for security to let them enter.

She was also enroute a few minutes behind.

The security guard knocked at Mycroft's door and Greg spoke into the mobile. "Mycroft, we're coming in.” He'd periodically tried to get the man to answer without success. Just hearing noises indicating he was in distress.

When the guards had managed to burst open the door, Mycroft had lost consciousness. He was on the floor, breathing shallow as he body tried to protect itself however it could. He was pale, with a light sheen of sweat covering his body. There was just a tinge of blue on his lips.

Greg ran over to where Mycroft was lying unconscious. "He's been ill for a couple of days now." Lestrade informed the medics as he stood by the side.

He went on to provide succinct quick answers to the medic's questions as they checked Mycroft's vitals. Externally Greg was in an efficient professional mode, internally however, he was feeling helpless and scared about how seriously ill Mycroft was. The medics strapped Mycroft on to the trolley. 

Anthea met the trolley and parade of people including Greg on their way out of the building. Greg briefed her quickly as she entered the back of the ambulance with her boss. Greg wished he were the one riding with his friend, but understood why she was there. He followed the ambulance to Bart's hospital.

As they entered the A&E, Greg heard the medic telling the receiving Doctor that they suspected appendicitis and that it may have ruptured.

The trip to the hospital was to say the least, chaotic. Mycroft was getting increasingly fidgety even when he was not awake, he groaned and flinched, unconsciously holding his side protectively. The medics rushed to stabilize his condition and after some speculation, had suspected that he had an inflamed appendicitis. It was advised that they immediately began surgery after they reached the hospital to reduce the probability and risk of infections.

Anthea conversed quickly and quietly with the medical staff and then walked over to Greg.

"Thank you for getting aid to him so quickly. They do suspect his appendix ruptured based on some initial toxicity results from his blood samples. They're run some urgent tests and then will prep him for surgery."

They both moved to stand out of the way of the emergency medical bay Mycroft was being worked on in. Greg felt his heart rate increase, anxious at hearing the latest update.

Mycroft was unconscious throughout the checks, his temperature spiking and fluctuating, sweat breaking out as he shivered periodically. They put him on the oxygen mask while they continued to do some tests. It had seemed that the appendix in question did ruptured, a small tear that resulted from the harsh coughing.

A small surgery would due necessary, as well as a course of antibiotics and watchful eyes.

The nurses pushed Mycroft into the surgical room after gaining permission from Anthea, who was entrusted by Mycroft. The doctor explained the situation to them before nodding his head and heading into the surgery.

Greg started pacing in the waiting room. He had sent texts to Sherlock earlier in the day to check in with him to make sure he was okay. But those messages went unanswered.

As he paced about, he stopped for a couple of minutes, deciding then to text Sherlock about Mycroft and that he should come to Bart's.

 

**Hi Sherlock, Mycroft’s at Bart's having surgery for appendicitis. Please come to Bart's.  - GL**

 

\--

Sherlock certainly got the message and when he saw it, his heart lurched in apprehensive disgust. He was conflicted, his brother was supposed to be the one that comforts, the tall undying support that Sherlock always had.

And now, he's sick?

Him?

The British government?

…Hospital?

Sherlock clenched his fist, unable to get it round his head, it was frightening. Frightening to admit that Mycroft was only human too, he was scared. But he refused to see Mycroft, seeing Mycroft would only mean that he must accept that Mycroft needed comfort too, and that would break Sherlock.

 --

It was an hour later that Mycroft was done with his surgery. The doctor came out to inform them of their completion of surgery, nodding his head and explaining what would happen for the few weeks to come.

Anthea and Greg listened carefully to the doctor's status of the surgery and Mycroft's recovery process for the next few weeks. Greg wanted to be able to see his friend and was told he was still in the recovery room until the anaesthesia wore off in another hour. He'd be moved to a private room after that. Greg was tired but still had too much nervous energy and worry running through. He was craving a cigarette in the worst way. He went outside to smoke to try relaxing a bit.

It had seemed that Mycroft would need to stay for two weeks or so, a course of antibiotics and the drainage of any remaining abscess to ward off any potential infections.

He was wheeled into the private room soon after, the monitors coming into place, equipping Mycroft and his needs. There was a tube connecting through to the area of his appendix, draining out the puss as well as an IV bag for the antibiotics. An oxygen mask was put in place as the first few hours after surgery was extremely delicate. Mycroft rested in the middle of it, seemingly pale and frail, what with the face of the British government, he didn't look good at all.

An exhausted Lestrade entered the private room.

Anthea stayed for a small amount of time to ensure her boss was properly taken care of and discussed her expectations with the nurse.

Greg was amazed at how efficient and well thought out she was to make everything be perfectly taken care of for Mycroft. He didn't doubt her veiled threats if her wishes weren't carried out to the letter. 

Greg upon entering had slightly grown anxious at seeing how many things were hooked up to Mycroft and how drawn and fragile he looked in the hospital bed. He took a deep breath to steady himself as his insides did a roll in turmoil, knowing that he felt terrible at not realizing sooner how ill his friend really was.

He moved to the bedside and placed a hand gently on top of Mycroft's.

"Look at you.  I'm sorry I didn't prompt you to get checked out sooner. Thought you were coming down with flu… but you had to go one better and have full blown appendicitis.” Greg joked a bit. “You must have been in pain, but as always, I bet you would never have revealed how much, although you lowered your walls to show me you were ill. You're a bloody idiot for not taking better care of yourself. You need to get better. You need a right proper looking after too. Alright?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note that I have no prior medical knowledge other than the research me and GLFish did, so the procedures etc. might not be entirely correct. Apologies in advance if we wrote anything wrong!   
> And also, surprise! Kinda? Mycroft took a turn for the worse, there's more hurt/comfort now!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for not posting weekly as I have said! I was caught up in school and I was too busy to actually proof-read it again. I'll post two chapters in a row and one tomorrow, and then weekly, if I can. I hope people are still reading this, and if you are, thanks and hello!

It wasn't after a few hours later that Mycroft stirred a little, the anaesthesia leaving his system. His whole body felt heavy and listless, a dull ache in his abdomen. He laid there for a while, unable to decipher where he was, mind too hazy to think about anything.

Where was he? What was he doing?

Mycroft peeked open his eyes slowly, groaning at the bright lights that seeped through and into his eyes.

Greg was sat in a chair near Mycroft's bed. With the late hour and his exhaustion and worry for Mycroft's well-being, he'd succumbed to sleep. He didn't hear Mycroft wake right away. However, even in sleep, he could distinctly feel a set of eyes watching and studying him intently. He gradually woke up to find Mycroft was awake. Greg rubbed at tired eyes and ran a hand down his stubbled face. "Hey there. How you feeling?"

His eyes glanced round the room and landed on the person beside him, to his surprise, or not really at this rate, it was none other than the DI himself.

Mycroft tried to push down the disappointment, what with Sherlock not being there, or no one in actual fact rather than the man that he had made friends with for the past few months. He observed Greg intently, eyes blinking slowly.

His mind was still hazy, hands twitching as it lifted up, unconsciously wavering around weakly. He was confused. What happened?

Greg saw the confusion and the hand seeking something. He frowned and naturally took Mycroft's hand in his own and patted it. "You've given us a bit of a scare, you have. Your appendix ruptured. They removed it."

A breathy "oh" slipped past Mycroft’s lips and misted onto the oxygen mask. He tried to get up, abdomen clenching as he did so. He winced as his hands flew to his stomach, clutching it protectively from further pain. A harsh cough came out as his breathing sped up, eyes glazed as he let out a small moan, trying to get a breath.

Greg still had his hand and immediately stood up, the chair backing away with a loud screech. He grimaced and tried to assist Mycroft to lie back down.  He pressed the nurse call button as well.

"Hey, take it slow. You just had surgery, mate. Lie back and relax for me, alright?" He smiled reassuringly at the pained man.

Mycroft laid back down, his eyes squeezing close in distress, nothing was working, his coordinations were slow and lagging and his throat scratchy and sore, his tongue dry like sand paper.

Mycroft laid there for a while, trying to will himself to calm down. "Water. " He managed to whisper out, licking his cracked lips in vain.

Greg looked about and located a cup. He went to the loo attached to the room and filled it with water. There was also a straw he found and he placed in the cup. He gently lifted Mycroft's oxygen mask and held the cup for him to drink.

"Small sips."

The nurse entered and looked at her patient. "Glad to see you're awake, Mr Holmes. What is your pain level between 1 through 10?" She enquired politely.

Mycroft hastily sipped on the water, the cool liquid refreshing his parched throat. He sipped for a while before he diverted his attention to the nurse, processing her words. He didn't felt anything really. Just a constant heaviness and ache that would flare up when his abdominal muscles contracted.

"6?" He voiced out, feeling drained from all the talking and thinking. He buried his face into the pillow, eyelids growing heavy.

The nurse replaced the oxygen mask after Mycroft finished the water. "I'll take some vitals and then fetch your doctor."

Mycroft could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness again, his body not ready for the toll of being awake. He groaned a little, his eyes closing shut as he wavered between the consciousness and unconsciousness.

Greg watched helplessly as Mycroft succumbed once more to the pain and discomfort from his appendicitis. He asked the nurse. "Could you please get the doctor as soon as possible? He looks like he needs the rest." 

She nodded and smiled kindly at him. "Of course. Are you related to him?" 

Greg shook his head and scratched his head, shrugging. "No." 

She looked at how he was holding Mycroft's hand still and his concerned face.

"His partner then?"

Greg blushed and stammered at that, flabbergasted that he would be thinking of something like that. "Er... Um... No, nothing like that. He's a... Um... close friend."

 --

Mycroft managed to succumb into a light doze when the doctor came in a few minutes later, gently nudging him awake. He asked a few short questions before he started to do his usual round of check-ups, fiddling with the tubes and needles and then proceeding to inspect the morphine levels as well as the surgical area for any infections. The doctor cleared his throat and nodded to Lestrade, who was the only one present in this room.

"The patient has been progressing quite well but his energy is still depleted and there's a moderate chance of infection. He'll proceed to heal finely if he continues to receive ample rest. "

Mycroft was annoyed and disturbed by the poking and prodding, he closed his eyes for the utmost time after the doctor left, and fell back into sleep again.

Greg took it in serious stride as the doctor asked questions of Mycroft as he examined him. He nodded his head as the doctor spoke with him about Mycroft's condition. "Thank you, doctor. He's a difficult one to get rest."  He smiled as he looked over at Mycroft at that last part.

The doctor smiled a little as he glanced at the two of them, automatically assuming that they were lovers. "Yes, do take note to take care of him well. " He nodded before he left the Ward.

Mycroft continued in his slumber.

 --

Greg noticed that the doctor, like the nurse before, assumed they were together. Was it that obvious he cared about Mycroft perhaps more than just a friend?  He grew a bit guilty, knowing he was still a married man. Although in a crumbling marriage with an unfaithful wife, he was still a man of his word and he'd made a marital vow that he felt he needed to honour however difficult it was proving to be lately.

It was a day later that Mycroft awoke once again, his mind marginally clearer from before. He yawned and stretched a little, eyes opening as it focused onto his surroundings. His eyes slanted as deductions and information flew into his head. Something must have happened, he was in the hospital. The oxygen mask had been taken off his face but the tube and IV still remained.

Lestrade had left a little after the doctor had seen Mycroft.  He'd gone home to find his wife spoiling for a row as he hadn't come home from work as expected. He had texted her he was handling an emergency and not to wait up but she questioned him endlessly about who he was with and why he stayed so long there, especially when she heard it was Mycroft Holmes. The same man he'd run to a few nights ago when he confronted her about her affair.

Ever since her husband got mixed up with Sherlock and through him, Mycroft, her husband seemed to run at their beck and call. She'd seen Sherlock and thought he was very handsome. She knew her husband was bisexual and noticed how he looked at certain good looking men. She didn't trust that her husband hadn't cheated on her as well and that was part of the row.

He reassured her he had never cheated. They ended with reassurances to each other that they would go to the counselling and fix their marriage.

 --

It had seemed that no one was around at the moment. He clicked his tongue as he observed the tubes that he had sticking out of him. It had seemed that he had went and burst his appendix. Mycroft sighed, pinching his nose. He looked around for his phone.

Mycroft picked up his phone, dialling Anthea.

She arrived as expected, 10 minutes after, updating him on the work that he had missed when he was passed out. Mycroft sighed, "How long was I here? "

"Around 3 days’ sir, you were advised to rest. " She chipped in, smiling a little at her boss.

"How long more then? " He looked up at her, assessing.

Anthea replied strictly, "Two weeks, give or take. They want to monitor you. You really should listen to them, take a break while you’re at it. "

Mycroft rolled his eyes, huffing. "That's simply blasphemy. Anthea, I will not tolerate this. I'll call my private doctor if I'm not out by this week. " He crossed his arms, a headache starting to form, annoying as it is.

It was towards evening when Mummy and father Holmes entered Mycroft's hospital room.

"Mike. I just knew when you didn't call last night as you usually do every Tuesday, something was wrong. Your lovely PA was a dear and told us. My poor son, how are you?"  She moved over to pat him on the cheek and fluffed his pillow, straightening up the table tray on wheels near his bed, fussing around him.

Father Holmes moved in, nodding his head slightly. "You look dreadful. Are they taking good care of you here?" 

Mummy jumped in with a slight huff. "Yes, he does look done in. Let me go find the nursing staff and have a talk with them about taking good care of you."

Mycroft eyes twitched a little, unexpecting of his parents appearing so soon. He was still frail and weak, mummy's mothering would be endless. He didn't want them to worry. Especially when he had not told them about Sherlock and his relapse.

Mycroft clenched the corners of the blanket into a tight ball as he strained a smile. "I'm fine mummy. There's no need to ask for the nurses. " He adverted her eyes, drumming his fingers. "I'm tired, I should rest, maybe you guys should come another day? "

"Mike.” Mummy frowned as she nodded. “You go ahead and sleep. We won't be far. Father wanted a bite to eat. We'll come back later."

Mycroft nodded, forcing his eye shut. He had meant another day, not after eating, but okay, that's fine, he could do enough damage control in that short amount of time. He would have a word with Anthea soon.

Mycroft immediately called Sherlock, the ringing endless before it beeped and Sherlock answered the phone.

"Yes? " Sherlock drawled as he laid down in his newly rented room. It had only been less than a week since he had escaped the hospital and so far, he had yet to decide whether he would indeed live in Mycroft's care. "Why are you calling Mycroft? Go to rest. "

"Yes brother mine, mummy and father are here, in London, due to unforeseeable circumstances. " He shook his head slightly, sighing under his breath. "They would want to see you. "

Now that caught Sherlock's attention, his eyes turned to slits as he tried to control his breathing. "You really ought to teach your assistant a lesson, brother dearest. Bringing our /parents/ in? A new low. " He snarled, bite in his tone.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, pinching his nose. "Not much can be done now, please, show yourself soon. At the least, sober. My workers will give you the appropriate grooming and attire. I know you're old enough Sherlock, don’t disappoint me. "

Sherlock gritted his teeth in disgust, he knew, very well, that he could not escape this time. Mummy would go all over London and throw a fit if she had realized what Sherlock had done, and that's not what Sherlock wanted at all. "Fine. " He replied as he hanged up.

He crossed his arms in a huff as he laid back on the thin mattress on the bed. Staring up at the wall and waiting for Mycroft's infamous black car to stop below his rented flat.

Mycroft discarded his phone at the side, carding through his sweat matted hair. At least it was, somewhat to an extent, solved. And all Mycroft needed to do now was rest and wait till the scene plays out as it's supposed to be.


	14. Chapter 14

A couple of hours later, Mummy and father Holmes reappeared at Mycroft's hospital room. Mummy went over to the bed, feeling his forehead. "Mike, you feel hot. Have they checked your temperature recently? I just talked with the nursing staff and they know I will be checking up on them."

Father Holmes went to stand next to his wife near the bed, he placed a bag of grapes and some reading material on the rolling table near Mycroft. " We picked these up for you."

Mycroft turned his head slightly to face his parents, an exasperated eyeroll. "Yes. " He sighed, wincing as he adjusted his position, the tube tugging a little. "I am really… fine." He assured them, sighing softly. "What bad luck though. " He muttered under his breath as he closed his eyes, a slight warmth radiating from him.

Mummy became further worried and immediately went to the nurse’s station to report her of Mycroft’s oncoming fever. What were they doing to resolve it?

Mummy insisted they have the doctor review further as well. After the nurses got Mycroft's vitals and agreed his fever was getting higher, they consulted with the doctor who concluded that the antibiotics ministered were not effectively combatting an infection.

He came up with a new regime of medications to resolve.  

Mummy stayed by Mycroft's bedside holding his hand as he slept and as the fever claimed. "Poor boy."

 --

Things took a slight turn of the worse as Mycroft, once again, plunged into the dark abyss of his mind. His temperature gradually climbed up as he grunted and groaned, twisting and fidgeting as much as his body allowed him. It had helped that mummy was around though, guiltily.

Anthea was keeping watch of the situation and decided to contact Lestrade, it had seemed that he would have wanted the update.

 

**Mycroft condition took a turn for the worse, might have infection. Not life threatening yet but might want to alert you.  -A**

**\--**

Greg was at home from work, seated on the settee watching a footie match on the telly. His mobile sounded, letting him know he received a text.  He read what Anthea sent and stood paralyzed with fear for a moment, hearing that his friend was taking a turn for the worse. He read again what Anthea said and reminded himself Mycroft was tough; he'd have to get through this.

Greg realized he'd be devastated to lose him. He considered again what was happening with him and his feelings towards Mycroft. He was a married man who was... What? Falling for his friend?

He responded to Anthea via text.

 

**Hello, A. Really appreciate you letting me know. I will come to the hospital within half hour. Please keep me updated.  - GL**

 

Greg changed from his sleepwear into his clothes. His wife was reading a book in their bedroom. He bent down to kiss her. "Gotta go to Bart's." 

She eyed him suspiciously over the book edge. "It's that Holmes fellow again isn't it? You always run at his call." 

Greg grew upset at her words. "He's taken a turn for the worse. He's a good friend. I've gotta go."

She looked sceptical. "I'm sorry then, Greg. Go. I hope he recovers quickly."

Greg gave a half smile at her attempt at being sympathetic. "Thanks. Don't wait up. I may be late. Bye." 

He put his shoes on at the door, grabbed his mack, mobile, and keys and quickly headed towards Bart's. 

He arrived in slightly under the time he said.  He went into Mycroft's room to find an elderly couple there.

"Oh, hello. I'm Mycroft's friend, Greg Lestrade. I won't intrude. But I heard he took a bad turn."

Father Holmes stood and shook Greg's hand. "Hello, I'm Siger Holmes and that's my wife Violet. We're his parents. Please stay. He and Sherlock have talked about you. I’m surprised even that they would actually find someone they consider allies."

Greg felt baffled and amused that both Holmes' brothers would have spoken of him to their parents and in positive light.

"Thank you for that." Greg nodded towards Mycroft. “How's he doing?”

Mummy responded, "He's a stubborn one. Has an infection that is resisting the treatment. He doesn't look out for himself enough. He should've gotten medical care sooner. He was always good at roughing things out and pretending everything's fine when it isn't. He really should let someone in when he's not well."

Greg swallowed feeling guilty that he'd been with Mycroft as he was getting ill, or come to think of it, may have been ill longer than Greg realized. He had let his feelings that night got the better of him and had not forced the man to get checked by a doctor. He should have frog marched him there if he had to.

"Yes, yes. He is stubborn. Do you mind if I stay a bit? Can I get either of you a tea or coffee?"

Mummy and father thanked him as he smiled and went to get them all something. He came back with the beverages. He leaned over to Mycroft, laying a hand on his arm and said "Hang in there for us Mycroft. We're here for you. You're not alone."

It'll get worse before it gets better, as the saying goes. And so did Mycroft, the infection invaded his body after a day, unsurprisingly. And soon the doctors confirmed that he indeed, had peritonitis. With the right cause of rigger antibiotics, Mycroft just had to battle through it as he always did.

 ==

The infection made the sight of his surgical wound red and patchy as Mycroft filtered through conscious and unconsciousness. He would wake up at times with Greg or his parents, or even Anthea by his side. Sometimes, it would be peaceful, just gazing around, cloudy, hazy.

But other times it would be horrendous, his stomach turning inside out, upside down and Mycroft would dry heave, panting for breath and whispering, groaning softly for it to all stop. His stomach muscles would clench painfully, not able to spew out any contents except stomach acid and copious amounts of saliva. It was terrible, disgraceful and embarrassing.

It was at this time, he could remember, hazily, of Greg's touch and his voice and his presence. It was like the warmth blanket of comfort that he could grip tight and closely too, scared of it to be gone. He could vaguely remember, the rubbing of his back and the soft murmurs of comfort.

Mycroft opened his eyes once again, weary and bone tired. He had lost quite a few of his weight, what with the inability to take in food. He tilted his head a little, looking at Greg that was sitting next to him. Mycroft wondered why Greg was here, why he was here, what it could mean. It had raised Mycroft's hope a little and it hurt to know that Greg would return to his normal life with his wife after this, after Mycroft would stop being a hassle and an invalid, and Greg would stop feeling obliged to take care of Mycroft like the good man he was.

Greg hated to leave Mycroft for any length of time. However, he still had work and his wife to check in on over the last couple of days.

He worked out a routine with Anthea and Mycroft's parents, so that at least one of them was with Mycroft at all times. His parents took the work day shift, Lestrade the night shift and Anthea the early morning one. Sometimes they overlapped. The poor man was suffering with the nasty effects of peritonitis. It pained Greg to see how it ravaged him.

There was some good that came through in the form of Sherlock appearing though, whom Mummy got hold of to berate him for not seeing his brother at hospital.

Greg had his hand gently on Mycroft's arm as he sat near the bed and had inadvertently fallen asleep. Sherlock had met with his parents at dinner and promised he'd stop by, which corresponded with Greg being there now, albeit dozing. Greg felt as if someone was studying him and woke, seeing Sherlock standing hesitantly outside the doorway, as if debating whether to stay or go. Greg called out to him. "Hello, Lad. Please come in. He'll want to see you. You alright?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at keeping track of updates, yikes. Thank you for the comments, it was too late when I saw it and I didn't want to be awkward by replying so late, but I appreciate it!

Sherlock stepped into the room with hesitance, deciding to stay now that he was here. Lestrade was here and wouldn't say no for an answer. The fact is, it had feared him, the thought of losing his brother, not by outer means, but his brother, defeated by his own body.

Sherlock took a hesitant step towards Mycroft and got to see the effect and outcome of what the infection had did to his brother. Sherlock constantly teased his brother on his extraordinarily love for cakes and his weight that never seemed to increase, but now, well Sherlock certainly couldn't use that joke this round. Mycroft looked gaunt, haunted, tired and pale. Sherlock's heart jumped a little as Mycroft shifted slightly in the bed as if he could sense Sherlock's presence in the room. Sherlock didn't know what to say. He looked at Greg, fingers nervously twitching.

Greg noticed how skittish Sherlock was, as if he might bolt away at any moment. The brothers were quite the pair. Sherlock looked thinner and very pale as well. 

"I'm glad you're here, Sherlock. We've worried about you too. I'm here for you, any time." He studied him further. "You look like you could do with a few good meals." 

Greg touched Mycroft calling out softly, knowing that he'd want to see Sherlock. "Hey, Mycroft, you have a special visitor."

Mycroft mumbled softly, turning his face towards Greg and burying his face in the pillow. At the word of "special visitor", he scrunched up his eyebrows as he opened his eyes blearily. It took him a few seconds to adjust to the light as his eyes slowly darted across the room. It immediately landed on the man that he had been thinking of for the past few days. Mycroft diverted his eyes for a while, a little shocked that his baby brother would be there. Mycroft wasn't ready, not for Sherlock to see him in a such an unguarded and weak state. He cleared his throat and tried to enquire. "What are you doing here brother mine? " His voice raspy and tired.

Sherlock's eye twitched as he fiddled with his fingers and tapped onto the hospital floor impatiently. "What does it look like dear brother? I've came to see you. If that wasn't obvious enough. " He retorted, looking down, not wanting to look at Mycroft.

Mycroft sighed a little. This batting wasn't going to help anything, nor would it improve their relationship. He willed his body to relax as he licked his lips. "Thank you Sherlock, for visiting. " He replied earnestly.

Sherlock stilled at that, discomfort ringing throughout his body as he stoically took a chair and placed it beside Mycroft, sitting on it.

"Brother mine.” Sherlock began,” I've got the role of the one being in danger. Don't worry mummy more by stealing my job, you're not supposed to be in the hospital. " He whispered as his fingers brushed over Mycroft's pale hand, biting his lip. That was all Sherlock was able to give.

Mycroft quirked a little smile as he observed Sherlock before he averted his gaze. "It was but an accident brother mine, I will take note of my health from now on. " He reassured, feeling a ton of weight lifting off his chest as the yearning of his brother that did not cared dwindled and diminished. "You may go Sherlock, I know it's hard for you to be here. " Mycroft replied.

Sherlock looked up, hesitating a little. He truly did not like the hospital, he despised it in every sense that he was. It reminded him of dark times. Sherlock rushed to stand up, looking at the DI hesitantly before looking down at his brother, offering a pat on the shoulder before he shuffled on his spot and darted out of the Ward. "See you again brother, if it means that you're out. "

 ---

Greg smiled appreciatively at Sherlock for being there however briefly to check in. Greg pat Mycroft's arm as he got up to follow Sherlock out the door. "I'll be right back, Mycroft."

He caught up with Sherlock at the outside of the door. He touched his arm. "That was good of you to come by." Greg searched Sherlock's face and studied him further with worry. "Been a while since I've seen you. You alright? You got a good place to stay? Let me know how I can help you, yeah?"

"I'm fine Gavin. " Sherlock mumbled under his breath as he stole a glance at the DI, tilting his head a little.

"I wonder what my brother sees in you. He trusts you so. " Sherlock asked as he thought back of Mycroft's surprising action of tilting his head towards Greg's touch. "Anyway, I'm fine. I really am, for the moment. " Sherlock was going around, establishing his homeless connection.

Greg gave a small smile. "I don't know either. But whatever it is, I'm glad to have him as a friend."  Greg's face became sincere. "Sherlock, let me help. I can bring you a cold case if that helps. Let me at least know how to reach you. Your last mobile isn't working."

Sherlock nodded, "If you really need to contact me, you can always ask Mycroft or anyone of my homeless network. My apologies, I don't have a phone at the time being. I'm trying, very hard, not to go back to the drugs. " Sherlock admitted, scrubbing a hand over his face. "If I deem myself well, I'll come back to look for you Lestrade. "

Greg felt the sincerity from Sherlock. That he was trying to get well. Greg pulled him towards him for a hug. "Alright. Just take care of yourself. Keep out of trouble, yeah?" 

He turned and walked away, back into Mycroft's room. "Bye, Sherlock".

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the hug, patting Greg lightly before he walked out of the hospital.

 ---

Greg sat back down near the side of Mycroft's bed and placed his hand on Mycroft's arm. He wasn't sure if Mycroft was listening or not. "It was good to see Sherlock again. Can't believe I actually missed the blighter."

Mycroft opened his eyes, laughing a little as he tilted his head to look at Greg. "Hmm yes, he does have that certain charisma after all. "

Mycroft was getting better, his fever was controllable now, nausea a tad lesser. "How long more do I have to be stuck here? " He grumbled again.

Greg was happy to hear Mycroft laugh a bit. He loved seeing that rare side of him that opened up for him. It made him feel as if his friend was finally turning the corner in regards to his health. 

He smiled at his friend gripping his arm gently. "Hopefully not too much longer. But don't rush back into things. You need to take good care of yourself, you gave us all a good scare. Can I get you anything?"

Mycroft allowed his gaze to linger on Greg for a while, his heart jumping slightly at Greg's grip. He blinked slowly and owlishly, a little touched that Greg cared for him. He was falling fast, he knew it, but he just couldn't help it. "Hmm, no I do not need anything. " He replied as he adverted his gaze, looking up at the ceiling again. "This is worthless. "

Greg furrowed his brows, concerned at Mycroft's description of himself. He moved his hand to the top of Mycroft's, gripping it quickly in a reassuring manner. "What's brought this on? Please know you are far from worthless. You're not well at the moment. But you're getting better. Please don't ever think or call yourself worthless."

"I missed countless weeks of work, and I'm losing more body mass than I gain, I can't even stand at this rate and all I did was burden you when you have problems yourself. " Mycroft reasonably explained as he sighed, his body shifting in discomfort.

Greg continued to hold his hand, frowning. " As much as you'd like to think otherwise, you're human Mycroft, not a machine. Please don't beat yourself up over missing work. I know it's important work, but it's more important that you get better and take care of yourself. I'll be making sure to see that you do." He gave him a serious “don't think I won't be” face.

"And don't you dare think you're a burden to me."  Greg felt a lump in his throat, as he choked out. "I'd gladly do anything for you. You're my best friend."

"I am? " Mycroft glanced at Greg before quickly turning his head back as he cleared his throat, momentarily stunned.

There was a few minutes of tense silence before Mycroft decided to reply back.

"I- Thank you Gregory, I am honoured that you would hold me in such a high position. "

His hand fiddled with the blanket that he was clutching, momentarily missing his armour, his suit and umbrella as he fidgeted. "I- Me too Gregory, you're the only person I have ever trusted on my own will. " He admitted, a tint of red spreading his cheeks.

Greg felt a tremendous warmth inside, hearing that Mycroft trusted him and considered him his best friend as well. The thought that he could be held in such an esteemed position was something he would do anything to keep. 

"Can I get you anything?" Looking at the cup on the bed table. "Are you thirsty? Let me get you some water." He went to fill the cup with cool fresh water, placing it on the table in front of Mycroft. "I can read to you if you'd like? Your parents brought a couple of books."

"Gregory, I- "

He looked at the DI and stopped just as he was about to say something. Nodding slowly, he seemed a little dejected.

"Yes, a book would be good. " He adjusted himself and took a sip of the water before looking at Greg again, queueing for him to start reading.

Greg reviewed the books and selected one. It was a classic HG Wells Time Machine. "Always meant to read this someday. No time like the present I suppose." 

He took out his reading glasses and placed them on his face. He turned some initial pages to get to the first chapter. "Here we go." 

He read out to the sick man in the bed. He'd interweave a question or commentary periodically throughout the reading.

Mycroft huffed out an amused snort as he saw Gregory with his reading glasses on, it did look pretty endearing. He gazed at the DI, seemingly appreciating his features.

As Greg continued reading, Mycroft began to nod off.

Greg was engrossed in the story and at a particular point, a question popped up in his head. “You think Dr Who ever met HG Wells?" He voiced out as he looked over at the bed and saw that Mycroft was sleeping again. He placed a slip of paper in between the pages as a bookmark and placed the book back on the small pile. He removed his glasses, putting them away.

He tucked the blankets around Mycroft and unconsciously cupped his cheek fondly. "Sleep well and get well soon, yeah."  Greg said softly before he pulled his hand back in surprise, realizing how affectionate he'd gotten without realizing. He looked around hoping no one saw him.

But he was out of luck, a nurse was there smiling at him. She moved towards the bed, "Just checking some readings and changing the IV bag. Don't mind me intruding on you and your partner."  Greg grew flustered. "Um... We're not together. He's my friend." 

The nurse frowned then smiled. "Sorry. Just you looked... Never mind."  She shook her head and apologized before she went about her duties.

Greg laughed slightly, brushing his hand across the nape of his neck before sitting himself down on the seat once again.


	16. Chapter 16

Mycroft fell into a rather refreshing sleep. He had felt slightly better when he woke up.

The doctor came in not long after, informing that they would take out the drainage tube from his abdomen soon. The best case scenario, the next day, as most of the pus has been drained out. Mycroft was nonetheless, very delighted and relieved of that fact.

Mummy and father were there and Greg was getting ready to leave. He'd heard the positive news from the doctor and looked at Mycroft, relieved that his friend was making progress and about to make a turn for the better. He knew that the proud well-groomed man must hate being in such a helpless dependent state and with each passing day, Greg looked forward to Mycroft looking and feeling more his old self.

"That's great news. I'm glad I was here still to hear it. I really need to get going though. Take care. Ta!"

Mycroft nodded as Lestrade rushed to go out, his hand waving a little until Greg disappeared. It was another day of reading books and dozing off before Mycroft slept again, ready to look forward to the next day.

 ===

Greg had gone home to an empty flat. The marriage counselling had started and they aired some grievances.

The counsellor had recommended some things to them but it still felt as if they were growing further and further apart. He got some sleep then woke to take a shower, dress and have a quick bite of breakfast before heading to work.

He went into his office and reviewed his case list, preparing for a team meeting. 

Sally entered his office with an urgent message. "Boss, we got a fresh one. Glower street. Let's go!"

They were at the scene quickly and it was a fairly cut and dry domestic gone bad. Greg and Sally were able to track down their suspect with a lead from a family member. The suspect didn't make it easy on them. 

After leading them on a chase and being cornered, the suspect charged at Greg, fighting him in close quarters. Greg gave as good as he got and then felt the suspect seize up at having been tazed by Sally.

"Thanks, Sal." Greg turned the suspect over on to his belly and cuffed him. 

He hadn't realized it at the time but he was bleeding from a stab wound on his arm. His eye was starting to swell from a punch that hit home. He moved a hand up to wipe the blood from his split lip.

Sally commented, "You're looking good, Guv. You're rocking the Rocky look."

The suspect was booked and Lestrade cleaned up in the locker room.

His arm was still sporadically bleeding, indicating he probably needed stitches. He grimaced and sighed, deciding to clock out for the day as he headed to the hospital to get it stitched. It was dull at best as he heard the nurse’s naggings again, nodding and smiling before he went upstairs to visit Mycroft, excited at that prospect. He knocked lightly on the door then entered the room. 

"Hello, Mycroft."

 ---

Mycroft was reading a book when Greg arrived. At Greg's arrival, Mycroft's posture straightened as he looked up at Greg, alert. He gave Gregory a once over, his gaze intense as he obtained the necessary information to know what happened. Mycroft frowned minutely, his eyes showing concern as he shifted himself in his bed. "Hello, Gregory. It seemed that you have gotten into a fight today. " Mycroft stated disapprovingly as he jerked his head in the direction of Greg, telling him to come closer.

Greg grimaced as he approached the bed, realizing how bad he must look. Exhausted, he unconsciously made himself comfortable sitting on the side of Mycroft's bed near his feet. He was happy to observe there were less tubes, wires and medical equipment connected to his friend.

"Yeah. Domestic gone real bad." Greg pushed his hands through his hair, sighing deeply. "The suspect didn't come easily."  He pointed to his face and lifted his arm slightly. "Got a few more souvenirs to add to my collection."

He gently touched Mycroft's leg that was under the blanket. He'd always been a demonstratively affectionate person especially with those he cared about. "How you feeling?" He asked gently.

Mycroft shifted uneasily when Greg's hand found his way onto his leg. He cleared his throat as his ears burnt with red. "Yes, I'm fine. You're the one that doesn't seem to. " Mycroft sighed as he took Greg's hand and observed the stitches with a slight hint of worry.

"Do take care of yourself. " He whispered as he gently brushed his fingertips across the wound.

Greg heard the concern in Mycroft's voice and actions and felt warmth and comfort steal over him at the attentions from a normally reticent man.

He marvelled yet again at being given these incredible glimpses and moments with him. It made him feel special and valued and did nothing to dampen the increasing sense that this was someone he wanted more in his life. 

"It's nothing really." He watched mesmerized as elegant long fingers gracefully and lightly hovered over the gauze. "Got lucky Sal was there."

He shouldn't have said that he realized, not wanting his friend to worry more that he'd been in such a dangerous predicament that he needed assistance. His wife hated him talking about the job and any close calls. He worked hard to filter and keep things to himself.

He tried to change the topic and distract Mycroft from going down any paths of thinking regarding the hazards of his job. He brought on a slightly exaggerated cheerfulness in his voice, although he was obviously quite happy at how his friend was looking. "Look at you. You're getting better each time I see you now. You've got some colour to you again."

This bit was a tease at the blush he'd noticed earlier.

Mycroft knew Greg was trying to change the topic, he made a mental check before looking up again, smiling at Gregory. "Yes, I am getting better, would be a curse if I didn't. " He muttered as he carded through his ginger hair. Mycroft blushed a little more when Greg stated about his ears, batting away the comment.

He then looked up at Gregory as he pursed his lips, looking at him long before cutting to the chase, "The counselling not going well then? "

Greg startled at the sudden deduction appearing as if out of nowhere. He would think he'd get used to it from being around Holmes' regularly. But this one was close to home... in both the figurative and literal sense.

Greg had his head down, shaking his head that it wasn't going well. Absentmindedly plucking at a thread on the bedspread.

He raised his head only slightly, showing the truth in his eyes to anyone that was paying attention and he knew Mycroft paid attention.

He felt like a failure in his marriage. His heart wasn't wholly in it anymore, but his sense of honour and commitment he had put into a vow to Caroline was what was hurting him the most. 

He'd made a promise, a vow, to her to be there for her through good and bad for the rest of their lives. He was afraid to face who he'd be if he didn't follow through on that vow. He didn't make many vows or promises lightly because when he did, they were a part of what made him the man he was. Someone that could be trusted and relied on for his word. 

"No." Greg sighed shrugging his shoulders. "I've got to get better at communicating. But what I've got to communicate would scare the shite out of her. We weren't always like this. It was good once. But there's stuff I do and go through that I can't talk to her about. And I know she's unhappy with our life the way it is. I... Well..."

Greg ran his hands through his hair nervously, "I can't see being a copper and being her husband being compatible. I've written my resignation letter. Did it last week. But I just can't seem to turn it in."  Greg felt awful burdening his sick friend. "I'm sorry. Don't mean to dump this shite on you too."

Greg looked absolutely miserable.

When Mycroft saw Greg's eyes, his heart gave a terrible lurch. He never wanted to see this man in so much pain ever again, it was horrendous, that a measly woman would dare to hurt this man so.

Mycroft kept quiet as he continued to listen to Greg's situation and how he felt about it. When he had heard that Greg wanted to resign, his finger twitched in anger. Mycroft laid a hand on Greg's shoulder, his whole being itching to comfort the DI.

"Gregory, look into your heart. Are you really willing to give up on the life and joy that your job has built? Just for a marriage that might not even work in the end? For a marriage that's on the verge of breaking. You're going to sacrifice even more of yourself to her? Gregory, listen to me. It won't be your fault, it isn't, if you do end up breaking the vow. People will understand, she will understand. " Mycroft reasoned, not wanting to let the DI regret his choices, not wanting to look at the DI all battered up.

Greg huffed out a self-deprecating laugh. "Look into my heart. Yeah, well. It's not much of a heart right now. It's just a painful lump from being caught in my throat, on my sleeve and beaten. Not sure I recognize it any more. I know at one time it was capable of love, not so sure it can find that again, at least not with Caroline." He blurted out with a huff at the end.

He looked at Mycroft for some sort of salvation at that last, knowing it was just wishful thinking that someone like Mycroft would want someone as pathetic and rough as he was in his mind's eye. Mycroft deserved better than a battered in life quixotic man like him.

"Everything points to what you say, to break my marital vow. I'd know I broke my vow. I'd have to live with that. But I'm weighing that against what I'd have to live with now without doing that. Would doing so set us both free? Really? I'm not so sure. What am I holding on to? Why am I holding on? I don't know."  He placed his face in his hands, feeling like he was about to break down in front of his friend.

He wiped a tear away quickly. "Sorry." He felt suddenly awkward at starting to tear up and wanted to run away. He distractedly made as if to get up and go. Not sure where he'd go feeling like he did.

Maybe to a pub to drown his sorrows, he laughed at himself internally. He never let anyone see him like this if he could help it. Why did it feel like he could be so open like this with Mycroft? Probably because Mycroft had let down some of his shields to him was what he began to think.

"I- " Mycroft didn't know what to say as he saw Greg breaking down in front of him, and looking at him with those eyes of yearning, those eyes that were saying that they wanted more. But Mycroft didn't know how to react, he does have an infatuation for Greg, and that scared him. Mycroft had never been good in relationships, was he capable to love someone so selfless like Greg? Wouldn't Greg deserve better?

He swallowed as he looked at Greg, his hand slowly moving up towards Greg's face as he brushed his thumb against his cheek, wiping a stray tear away. "There's no need to be sorry. Why are you holding on to it? " He whispered asking, "Maybe you're unable to forget the good times you had with her. Maybe you didn't want to destroy anything more than it already became. "

 ---

Mycroft looked down before looking up as he bit his lips, "I'll always be here if you need me. " He tilted his head as he looked down again. He was blushing heavily now, his pupils dilated as his throat constricted, not believing what he just said. Or why he said it. It had just slipped out of his mouth, just like that.

Greg felt the thumb gently wipe away a tear. The appreciated yet unexpected gesture was not one he would expect of anyone towards him, least of all someone like Mycroft. His initial instinct was to capture that comforting hand and kiss it. The temptation was there, but he didn't act on it. But he did brush it in fleeting movements of fingertips as it moved away back to its owner.

He had listened to the words being shared to ease and guide him and it wasn't just the words he could hear but the sound of someone caring about his well-being with full sincerity.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, kudos and comments would be amazing.


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